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CAPTAIN  WILLIAM   THORNTON   PARKER,  M.  D. 
Aide-de-Camp  Army  and  Navy  Union.  U.  S.  A. 


PERSONAL   EXPERIENCES 


AMONG  OUR 


NORTH  AMERICAN  INDIANS 

FROM  1867  TO  1885 


BY 


W.    THORNTON    PARKER,    M.  D. 


Aide-de-Camp  Army  and  Navy  Union,  U.  S.  A. 

Companion,  lat  ClasB,  "Order  of  Indian  Wars  "  of  the  United  States. 

Member  of  tiie  Society  of  the  "Sons  of  the  American  Revolution." 

Formerly  Act.  Assistant  Surgeon  U.  8.  Army. 

Formerly  Surgeon  U.  8.  Indian  Service. 


NORTHAMPTON,  MASS. 
A.  D.  1913. 


DEDICATION. 


To  the  gallant  old  Third  Cavalry,  United  States 
Army — A  regiment  which  has  few  if  any  equals  and 
no  superiors,  in  this  or  any  other  land — And  to 
the  memory  of  the  brave  troopers  of  the  Third  with 
whom  I  had  the  honour  to  ride  in  the  sixties  on  the 
frontier,  most  of  whom,  have  answered  the  "last 
call ! "  "  Their  sabres  are  rust,  their  steeds  are  dust, 
their  souls  are  with  the  Saints  we  trust." 


PREFACE. 

Complying  with  the  requests  of  several  friends,  I 
have  endeavored  to  select  from  my  articles  contri- 
buted to  various  magazines  such  as  the  Open  Court, 
North  American  Review,  etc.,  those  which  seemed 
to  me  most  interesting,  concerning  our  North  Ameri- 
can Indians,  Scouts,  Soldiers  and  others,  who  have 
lived  upon  the  wild,  dangerous  "frontier"  during 
the  Sixties — and  later.  I  hope  that  I  may  be  par- 
doned for  adding  one  or  two  papers,  from  medical 
journals.  I  shall  be  glad  indeed  if  some  of  these 
pages  may  be  found  acceptable  to  the  reader. 

W.  Thornton  Parker^  M.  D. 

Northampton,  Massachusetts. 
May  22nd,  1913. 


797092 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  Indian  War  Veteran  and  Frontiersman. 


Pages  of  history,  and  the  acts  of  congress  of  a 
grateful  nation,  and  books  which  might  fill  libraries, 
have  been  written  in  just  and  undying  praise  of  our 
relatives  and  friends  and  comrades  who  served  so 
gallantly  in  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  to  save  our 
beloved  land.  The  sacred  dust  of  thousands  of  war- 
riors is  intrusted  to  the  guardianship  of  the  nation 
they  loved,  and  for  whose  glory  they  willingly  suf- 
fered, and  alas,  so  many  died:  But  these  pages 
are  my  humble  tribute  to  the  honour  of  brave  sol- 
diers of  the  regular  army,  and  to  call  to  remembrance 
the  deeds  of  heroes,  and  what  we  owe  to  them. 
The  valuable  services,  privations  and  heroism  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  regular  army  of  the  United  States, 
who  have  served  in  the  Indian  wars,  and  in  other 
wars,  have  never  received  suitable  recognition. 
President  Taft  has  said  of  these  veterans:  "All 
honor  to  the  regular  army  of  the  United  States! 
Never  in  its  history  has  it  had  a  stain  upon  its 
escutcheon,  with  no  one  to  blow  its  trumpet,  with 
no  local  feeling  or  pride  to  bring  forth  its  merits; 
quietly  and  as  befits  a  force  organized  to  maintain 
civil  institutions,  it  has  gone  on  doing  the  duty 
which  it  was  its  to  do;  accepting  without  a  murmur 


dangers  of  war.  Upon  the  trackless  stretches  of 
our  western  frontier,  exposed  to  the  arrows  and  the 
bullets  of  the  Indian ,  it  has  never  failed  to  make 
a  record  of  duty  done  that  should  satisfy  the  most 
exacting  lover  of  his  country." 

Comparatively  few  of  the  citizens  of  our  great 
nation,  are  familiar  with  the  dangers,  privations, 
the  sufferings  and  often  the  tortures  of  Indian  war- 
fare. Few  comprehend  what  privations  our  soldiers 
on  the  frontier  service  have  endured.  Few  recognize 
the  fact  that  no  battles  of  the  war  of  the  Rebellion 
have  ever  called  forth  more  of  military  courage  and 
fortitude  than  that  displayed  in  Indian  campaigns 
on  the  frontier. 

Veterans  of  the  regular  army,  who  served  in  the 
Indian  wars,  are  entitled  to  every  honor  which  a 
grateful  nation  can  bestow  upon  its  heroes.  The 
veterans  who  faced  the  dangers  of  Indian  warfare, 
who  made  the  weary  dangerous  march,  crossing  the 
plains,  the  mountains,  and  desert  regions,  who  have 
endured  the  horrors  of  thirst  and  hunger,  and  un- 
told suffering  in  their  common  duties  as  soldiers, 
who  have  endured  the  cold  of  Montana  and  the  heat 
of  Arizona,  who  have  suffered  all  sorts  of  privations 
and  discomforts  in  an  enemy's  country,  and  who 
have  held  in  check,  often  against  great  odds,  and 
fought  battles  with  savages,  where  almost  super- 
human courage  was  required  to  avert  absolute  de- 
struction, and  where  surrender  could  never  be 
yielded  without  the  sure  sequence  of  being  reserved 
for  the  indescribable  horrors  of  Indian  tortures — 
surely  such  warriors  are  peers  of  the  soldiers  in 
any  country,  and  are  worthy  of  the  tribute  and 
friendship  of  all  veterans.     No  true  soldier  or  worthy 


citizen  would  hesitate  for  an  instant  to  yield  homage 
to  the  brave  and  true,  who  at  such  sacrifices  and 
terrible  risks  opened  up  the  great  western  lands  to 
settlements  for  millions.  Cities  and  towns  have 
sprung  up  where  once  roamed  their  mighty,  cruel, 
but  defeated  Indian  enemies.  In  Indian  warfare 
there  is  no  rear.  All  are  equally  exposed  to  danger. 
The  real  veteran  does  not  and  cannot  approve  of  the 
neglect  of  any  veteran  soldier.  The  real  soldier  is 
ready  to  give  his  sympathy  generously,  for  the  jus- 
tice of  brave  men. 

Our  American  Indian  war  scouts,  were  indeed 
a  brave  and  daring  lot ;  and  seemed  to  be  without 
fear  of  danger  or  of  death — although  they  knew 
both  in  the  worst  possible  form. 

The  tomahawk,  the  scalping  knife  and  the  fright- 
ful tortures  of  devilish  Indian  cruelty  were  much 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  engines  of  destruction 
usually  employed  in  war. 

There  have  been  rare  deeds  of  personal  courage 
in  our  frontier  service  by  scouts  as  well  as  by  sol- 
diers. Comparatively  little  has  been  recorded  of 
the  innumerable  life-imperilling  acts  of  bravery  of 
the  soldiers,  or  scouts  who  found  the  Indian  savages, 
and  faced  dangers  of  all  descriptions  in  the  dis- 
charge of  duty.  Alert  and  willing  to  take  any  risks 
in  rendering  assistance  at  the  first  call  for  help — 
they  have  added  laurels  to  the  records  of  American 
heroism.  Like  our  brave  soldiers,  the  scouts,  were 
not  heroes  for  a  day,  they  were  heroes  all  the  time. 
When  there  were  things  to  be  done,  they  just  went 
and  did  them.  Some  day  in  the  far  future,  some 
historian  may  seek  to  record  the  thrilling  incidents 
of  their  lives,   and  to  place  them  properly  in  the 

6 


grand  story  of  the  American  people.  Then  facts 
will  not  be  obtainable,  and  more  or  less  fiction  will 
take  their  place.  But  fiction  can  be  no  stranger 
than  the  facts  in  many  cases.  It  will  indeed  be  a 
pity  if  the  true  tales  of  these  hardy  men  are  lost 
to  history!  Few  witnessed  or  even  knew  of  many 
of  these  acts  of  courage  performed  by  unselfish, 
manly  men  who  made  light  of  danger,  in  their  de- 
termination to  do  their  manly  duty  and  to  do  it  well. 
May  my  pen  be  able  to  present  the  homage,  it 
would  so  gladly  record  in  honour  of  my  dearly 
esteemed  comrades,  the  veterans  of  the  regular  army, 
soldiers  and  scouts,  who  served  on  the  Indian  fron- 
tier in  the  service  of  their  beloved  country  and  for 
the  welfare  of  mankind  in  general. 


CONTENTS. 


Preface.      Introduction. 

I    Across    the    Plains — A    Three    Months' 
Journey  with  an  Army  Train. 

II     The  Santa  Fe  Trail  in  the  '60s. 

III  The    Journey    of    DexVth — "Jornada    del 

Muerto." 

IV  The  Sentinel  of  the  Southwest. 
V    The  Prairie  Monitor. 

VI  Billy  Dixon,  the  Scout. 

VII  Concerning  Arrow  Wounds. 

VIII  Indian  Revenge. 

IX  Hygiene  among  the  Aborigines. 

X  MAitRiAGE  among  Indians. 

XI  Baby  Days  in  the  Wigwam. 

XII  Concerning    American     Indian     Woman- 

hood, 

XIII  The  Muskee-kee  Win-ni-nee. 

XIV  Concerning  Indian  Burial  Customs. 

XV    The  Religious  Character  of  the  North 
American  Indians. 

8 


XVI    In  the  Land  of  Hiawatha, 
XVII    Among  the  Chippewas. 

XVIII    A    Mother's    Experience    in    the    Cold 

Northwest. 

XIX  The  Love  of  a  People. 

XX  Beaveheart's  Baptism. 

XXI  Lost  on  the  Great  Plains. 

XXII  On  the  Arkansaw  in  '67. 

XXIII  On  the  Little  Big  Horn  in  '76. 

XXIV  A  Trooper  of  the  Gallant  Old  3rd  Cav- 

alry Worsted  by  a  Cavalry  Horse. 

XXV  The  Temperance  Question  in  the  Army. 

XXVI  Shong-sasha. 

XXVII  The  Evolution  of  the  Colored  Soldier. 

XXVIII  Cook's   Canon— A   Story  of  Life   in  the 

Southwest. 

XXIX  Postscript — The  Trail  of  Santa  Fe  de  San 

Francisco. 


ACROSS  THE  PLAINS. 

A  Three  Months'  Journey  with  an  Army  Train. 

We  were  not  many,  we  who  marched  along  the  lonely  Santa  Fe, 

But  many  a  gallant  soldier  would 

Have  given  much  if  he  but  could 

Have  shared  with  us  that  dangerous  way. 

''The  Plains,"  as  it  was  understood  46  years 
ago,  was  that  section  of  country  west  of  the  Missouri 
River,  comprising  almost  the  entire  State  of  Kan- 
sas, a  portion  of  Colorado,  and  the  Indian  Territory. 
If  we  open  the  geographical  atlas  at  the  map  of 
Kansas  we  will  find  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  State 
the  still  important  military  post  of  Fort  Leaven- 
worth. Before  the  railroads  west  of  the  Missouri 
were  built  this  fort  was  the  great  distributing  point 
for  troops  and  military  supplies  of  all  kinds.  It  was 
here  that  in  May,  1867,  a  large  expedition  was  fitted 
out  to  cross  the  plains  to  New  Mexico.  To  the 
traveler  rushing  through  Kansas  to-day  in  the  com- 
fortable and  safe  railway  cars,  it  is  difficult  to  ex- 
plain the  experiences  of  crossing  these  prairies  in 
"Indian  times,"  before  the  railroad  was  built. 

The  expedition  which  left  Fort  Leavenworth  May, 
1867,  consisted  of  about  300  cavalry  recruits,  20 
cavalrymen,     a     dozen     or     more     officers,     their 


11 


families,  a  half  dozen  non-commissioned  staff  officers, 
and  about  200  civilians,  teamsters,  etc.  One  hundred 
a^id  twefi^#v^  ^'eagoras  and  ambulances  comprised 
the  train,  and  there  was  also  a  herd  of  about  500 
horses  and  mules  for  distribution  at  the  posts  in 
New  Mexico,  beside  those  in  use  by  the  soldiers  and 
the  train.  This  was  considered  a  strong  expedi- 
tion, and  an  important  one  in  those  days.  The 
Paymaster-General,  then  Maj.  Rochester,  accom- 
panied the  expedition,  and  he  carried  for  payment 
of  the  troops  in  New  Mexico  a  large  sum  of  money — 
over  a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  as  the  men 
believed;  but  at  any  rate  a  considerable  sum.  Later 
we  shall  have  something  to  tell  about  that  money. 

The  command  of  this  expedition  was  intrusted  to 
Maj.  Whiting,  an  experienced  officer,  and  one  who 
had  a  good  reputation  as  an  Indian  fighter.  He 
proved  himself  a  thorough  soldier  before  the  ex- 
pedition was  broken  up,  and  when  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  that  long  march,  through  what  was 
then  a  wilderness,  are  taken  into  account,  he  de- 
served the  support  and  respect  of  every  officer  and 
man. 

The  march  was  to  be  a  long  one — 10  or  12  weeks — 
and  through  a  desert  land  not  only  difficult  for  trav- 
eling, but  swarming  with  hostile  Indians,  determined, 
if  possible,  to  annihilate  all  the  whites  west  of  the 
Missouri.  Each  mile  had  to  be  traversed  with  the 
command  ready  for  action  to  repel  Indian  attacks, 
and  each  camp  had  to  resemble,  as  nearly  as  possible, 
a  garrison  besieged.  The  enemy  had  all  the  advan- 
tage, and  were  well  armed,  well  mounted,  brave 
and  intelligent,  and  out-numbered  us  many  times 
over. 


12 


The  following  was  the  order  of  march  as  well  as 
I  can  remember  it:  The  new  guard  of  to-day,  the 
advance  guard;  one  company  of  cavalry  recruits; 
ambulance  containing  officers'  families;  wagons  con- 
taining soldiers'  families;  wagons  containing  camp 
equipments;  horses  led  and  guarded  by  soldiers 
(these  horses  were  tied  to  a  long  rope  at  regular  in- 
tervals) ;  second  company  of  cavalry ;  wagons  con- 
taining supplies;  another  section  of  horses;  third 
company  of  cavalry;  extra  wagons;  camp  followers, 
etc. ;  old  guard  of  yesterday,  rear-guard. 

On  the  right  flank,  well  in  advance,  rode  20  picked 
men,  old  soldiers,  who  acted  as  flankers  and  scouts 
to  protect  the  expedition  from  surprises.  The 
wagons  moved  in  single  or  double  file  as  the  nature 
of  the  roads  or  the  probabilities  of  attack  suggested. 
The  train  was  under  the  immediate  control  of  wagon- 
masters,  and  the  drivers  were  instructed  to  halt  and 
form  in  position  to  resist  attack  at  a  moment's  notice. 
The  movement  was  to  be  executed  in  the  following 
manner:  An  attack  threatening,  the  flankers  were 
slowly  to  join  the  main  column,  the  advance-guard 
halting  at  once.  The  wagons,  when  moving  in  double 
column,  halted  in  this  order:  First  two  leading 
wagons  came  together,  mules  unhitched  and  tied  to 
wagon-wheels;  numbers  three  and  four  right  and 
left  of  these,  their  mules  driven  to  the  inner  side  of 
wagons  one  and  two ;  wagons  five  and  six  right  and 
left  of  these,  their  mules  driven  to  the  inner  sides 
of  wagons  three  and  four,  and  so  on  until  the  whole 
command  was  in  position  to  resist  attack.  The  am- 
bulances, soldiers,  horses,  etc.,  would  thus  be  en- 
tirely inclosed,  and  the  wagons,  loaded  with  camp 
equipage  and  stores,  would  make  a  very  fair  fortress. 

13 


The  soldiers  could  fight  from  under  the  wagons, 
keeping  up  a  fire  that  would  make  an  Indian  attack 
a  very  dangerous  undertaking.  In  Indian  fighting 
one  man  holds  four  horses  and  the  other  three  act 
as  skirmishers.  The  signal  of  "danger,"  which  is 
made  by  riding  round  in  a  circle,  means  also  the 
enemy  is  in  dangerous  proximity;  collect  together 
as  soon  as  possible.  Thus  a  flanker  way  off  on  the 
right  could  signal  the  advance-guard,  and  the  Officer 
of  the  Day,  always  with  or  near  the  advance-guard, 
reporting  to  the  commanding  officer,  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  whole  train  would  be  in  position  for  the 
threatened  attack. 

In  this  manner,  and  always  on  the  alert,  we 
marched  through  Kansas.  Reveille  sounded  early  in 
the  morning,  sometimes  when  in  very  dangerous 
places,  long  before  daylight,  and  camp  was  usually 
formed  about  2  or  3  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  After 
the  site  for  the  camp  had  been  carefully  selected, 
the  wagons  would  move  into  position,  forming  three 
sides  of  a  square  if  on  the  river  bank,  or  a  perfect 
square  if  on  the  open  prairie,  in  single  or  double 
row  of  wagons.  The  horses  were  herded,  if  in  a  se- 
cure camp,  or  if  threatened,  were  tied  to  the  long 
ropes  between  the  camps,  which  were  fastened  to 
posts  firmly  planted  in  the  ground.  The  hospital 
and  guard-tents  were  the  earliest  raised,  and  when 
the  whole  camp  was  in  order  it  was  indeed  a  pretty 
sight  to  see.  By  sundown  the  camp  was  silent,  ex- 
cept that  now  and  then  one  might  hear  a  banjo  or 
guitar,  or  some  voices  singing  songs  of  home,  as  the 
soldiers  gathered  around  the  campfires  and  smoked  or 
told  stories  until  after  tattoo.  Tlie  nights  were  usual- 
ly cool,  and  how  pleasant  camp  seemed  after  the  long, 

14 


hot  and  dusty  ride  of  the  day.  As  we  journeyed 
westward  grass  grew  longer,  and  beds  became  more 
luxurious.  First  we  threw  down  our  rubber  ponchos, 
then  a  blanker  folded  twice,  or  oftener,  for  a  mattress. 
If  we  had  no  pillow,  a  folded  overcoat  over  a  pair 
of  boots  made  an  excellent  substitute.  Another 
blanket  over  us  completed  the  bed.  Taps,  the 
last  call,  bade  us  rest  in  peace  to  wait  for  to- 
morrow's reveille.  Soldiers,  like  other  boys,  are  apt 
to  be  frolicsome  at  bedtime,  and  many  were  the 
pranks  played  between  tattoo  and  taps,  and  some- 
times even  after  taps. 

Mosquitoes  were  plentiful  as  summer  advanced,  and 
they  made  slumbers,  which  in  their  absence  might 
have  been  delicious,  somewhat  restless.  The  nettings 
we  have  in  the  east  to  protect  us  were  not  amongst 
our  supplies  on  the  march.  It  was  discovered,  how- 
ever, that  our  hungry  little  pest  hated  the  fumes 
of  burnt  sugar  and  chlorate  of  potash,  so  from  our 
hospital  supplies  we  made  a  mixture  of  our  "anti- 
mosquito  remedy."  We  burnt  this  on  boards  or 
tin  just  after  getting  into  bed,  and  it  is  hard  to  say 
what  the  mosquito  thought  of  it,  but  we  suffered 
severely,  and  out  of  respect  for  our  endurance  of 
the  strangling  fumes  we  ought  to  have  been  spared 
the  irritating  bites.  But  the  mosquito  of  Kansas  is 
a  very  intelligent  bird,  and  waited  outside  until  the 
fumes  had  pretty  well  disappeared  and  we  were  fast 
asleep ;  then  he  walked  in  for  his  dinner.  In  the 
course  of  these  experiments  with  chlorate  of  potash 
and  sugar  we  discovered  that  in  burning  it  made  a 
bright  light.  Taps  is  the  signal  to  "extinguish 
lights,"  and  this  we  were  particular  to  do;  but  one 
night  while  taps  was  sounding  we  lit  our  diabolical 

15 


mixture.  The  Sergeant  of  the  Guard,  walking  about 
in  the  silent  streets  of  the  camp,  noticed  that  while 
all  other  lights  went  out  one  tent  seemed  brilliantly 
illuminated.  We  heard  his  voice  "lights  out,"  and 
still  the  fire  kept  on.  Our  heads  were  covered  in 
our  blankets,  unable  to  endure  the  suffocating  fumes. 
On  came  the  Sergeant,  angry  at  our  inattention.  He 
pushed  his  head  into  the  tent,  and  taking  a  deep 
breath  in  his  haste  to  scold  us,  beat  a  hasty  retreat, 
nearly  strangled  by  the  fumes  of  our  burning  medi- 
cine. "What  does  this  mean?"  he  managed  to  call 
out,  his  eyes  suffused  and  then  fully  aroused  to 
anger.  We  answered  him  from,  under  the  blankets 
as  the  last  of  the  flame  died  away,  ' '  The  mosquitoes 
are  very  bad  and  we  have  burned  a  little  sugar  to 
frighten  them  away,  but  it  did  not  go  out  at  taps." 
With  an  admonition  not  to  let  it  happen  again,  he 
marched  off. 

Reveille  rudely  woke  us  from  oar  slumbers  every 
morning;  but  sometimes,  when  we  had  gone  to  rest 
some  pleasant  summer  evening  with  tent-sides  looped 
up,  and  not  anticipating  a  storm,  a  furious  gale 
would  strike  us,  down  would  go  our  lines  of  tents, 
and,  suddenly  aroused  and  drenched  with  rain,  we 
would  try  to  find  our  clothing  and  restore  order  in 
camp.  It  happened  at  Fort  Zara,  I  believe,  that  we 
changed  our  camp  twice.  The  river  rising  rapidly 
and  flooding  the  country  in  every  direction,  we  were 
forced  very  hastily  to  move  to  higher  ground.  This 
first  move  was  accomplished  only  after  considerable 
effort  in  packing  and  hitching  up;  but  when  later 
the  river  again  attacked  us  it  seemed  as  if  we  must 
lose  ever.v^thing.  Everyone  took  hold  and  worked 
hard  to  save  the  wagons,  camp  equipage  and  supplies 

16 


It  was  desperate  work,  and  although  the  men 
struggled  faithfully,  several  wagons  became  so  firmly 
inbedded  m  the  mud  that  it  was  necessary  to  aban- 
don them  altogether,  and  much  flour  and  other  sup- 
plies were  destroyed  by  the  water.  The  whole  com- 
mand, ladies  and  all,  were  well  drenched  before  we 
found  a  safe  camp  again. 

The  commanding  officer  generously  ordered  that 
a  case  of  whiskey  be  distributed  to  the  men,  and  the 
efforts  of  many  a  gallant  soldier  to  obtain  two 
drinks  instead  of  one  by  hook  or  by  crook  were 
laughable  in  the  extreme.  "I've  seen  your  face  be- 
fore ;  I  've  given  you  a  drink  lately, ' '  I  said  to  some. 
' '  Oh,  no ;  it  was  my  brother  or  a  friend, ' '  was  the 
answer. 

At  daylight  we  learned  that  two  men  had  been 
drowned  in  the  river,  but  some  said  their  bodies  had 
not  been  found,  and  the  report  merely  covered  their 
desertion.  Desertions  were  common  enough  after 
that.  Men  went  off  in  squads  with  horses,  arms  and 
provisions,  deserting  directly  in  the  midst  of  the 
Indians;  many  of  them  losing  their  lives  to  escape 
the  slavery  of  a  soldier's  life.  Some  of  the  recruits 
were  professional  horse-thieves,  and  had  enlisted  at 
Carlisle  Barracks,  Pa.,  going  East  for  the  purpose 
of  being  returned  again  to  the  plains,  where  they 
knew  expeditions  were  constantly  crossing,  and  op- 
portunities for  horse  stealing  and  desertion  frequent. 
One  night  almost  the  entire  guard  deserted,  includ- 
ing non-commissioned  officers.  These  men  carried 
off  the  company  records,  besides  taking  extra 
horses,  arms,  ammunition  and  rations.  The  risk 
they  assumed  of  capture  by  Government  officials  was 
small  indeed;  but  outside  waited  the  Indians,  who 


17 


very  much  desired  their  ill-gotten  plunder.  Un- 
doubtedly many  of  these  deserters  were  malcontents, 
who  hated  the  army  discipline,  and  who  had  endured, 
or  fancied  they  had  endured,  wrongs  and  humilia- 
tions which  made  them  desperate.  In  no  other 
army — certainly  not  in  the  English,  German  or 
French — are  the  enlisted  men  so  happy  as  they 
are  in  ours.  Our  soldiers  are  well  paid  and  well 
fed,  but  it  is  surprising  to  witness  the  great  gulf 
existing  between  the  officers  and  the  soldiers. 

The  rivers  and  streams  we  were  obliged  to  ford, 
there  being  neither  bridges  or  ferryboats,  and  it  of- 
ten happened  that  fording  was  attended  with  great 
difficulty  and  even  danger.  On  one  occasion,  where 
the  river  banks  were  very  steep,  the  wagons  and 
cavalry  marching  through  the  water  and  ascending 
the  opposite  bank  had  made  it  very  slippery.  When 
the  rear-guard  arrived  the  crossing  looked  very  un- 
inviting, and  upon  attempting  to  ascend  the  opposite 
bank,  horses  iind  riders  slipped  down  the  bank  nearly 
to  the  water's  edge.  A  group  of  officers  gathered 
on  the  bank  above,  watching  the  crossing,  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  comical  struggle  of  horses  and 
men  striving  to  make  the  ascent  without  falling.  My 
horse  enjoyed  the  name  of  "Billy,"  probably  the 
commonest  name  for  army  horses.  He  was  a  fine, 
large,  deep  bay,  carefully  selected  by  an  old  soldier 
from  amongst  a  herd  of  horses  at  Fort  Riley,  which 
had  been  recently  purchased  in  Missouri,  the  great 
supply  depot  for  the  United  States  Army.  Billy 
was  my  special  pet,  and  on  him  I  showered  my  affec- 
tion and  all  the  dainties  my  slender  purse  could  pro- 
cure. Our  turn  had  come  to  make  the  ascent.  I 
looked   at  Billy  and   his  clean,   well-groomed   sides; 


18 


at  myself  and  my  gorgeous  scarlet  stripes  (the  old 
style  of  stripes  for  Hospital  Stewards),  and,  con- 
sidering the  adventures  of  the  cavalryman  who  had 
just  rolled  down  the  bank  covered  with  mud,  I  felt 
that  glory  was  not  in  store  for  me  that  day.  Yet 
Billy  was  quick,  steady  and  intelligent,  and  so  we 
hopefully  descended  the  bank,  crossed  the  river,  and 
as  we  stepped  out  of  the  water  I  patted  my  horse, 
spoke  to  him,  and  then  giving  him  a  little  touch  with 
the  spur,  we  started  up  the  difficult  ascent.  Up, 
up,  went  Billy,  plunging  and  rocking,  and  we  had 
nearly  reached  the  top,  when  down  he  came  well  on 
one  side,  covering  my  boot  and  leg  with  mud,  and  I 
thought  it  was  all  over;  but  a  gallant  spring  gave 
him  his  legs  again,  and  in  a  second  more  we  stood 
secure  upon  the  bank  above.  A  kind  applause 
greeted  his  splendid  efforts,  and  from  the  depths  of 
my  saddle-bag  came  forth  my  last  lumps  of  sugar  for 
a  reward. 

Billy  distinguished  himself  again,  much  to  my  dis- 
gust, by  interfering  with  the  hospital  cook.  Our 
horses  were  being  stolen  so  rapidly  that  I  had  my 
horse  picketed  close  by  the  hospital  tent.  Camp 
cooking  is  done  out  of  doors,  and  is  a  very  simple 
process,  bread  being  baked  in  Dutch-ovens — iron 
pots  with  heavy  iron  covers,  placed  in  the  bed  of 
coals  and  completely  covered  over  by  them.  Usually 
we  had  hard  wood  for  fires,  but  in  some  very  desert 
places  the  dried  dung  of  the  buffalo,  called  "buffalo 
chips,"  was  used.  This  dung  was  found  all  over  the 
plains  of  Kansas  years  ago,  but  has  pretty  much  dis- 
appeared now.  The  cook  had  taken  the  mess  chest 
outside  his  tent,  and  while  making  the  bread  left  the 
flour-bag  open.     I  was  dozing  in  my  tent,  when  I 


19 


heard  a  yell  and  angry  imprecations  and  a  clatter 
of  hoofs.  Springing  up  I  saw  the  cook  chasing  my 
Billy  away,  and  my  horse's  head  was  a  sight  to  be- 
hold, for  in  his  playful,  inquisitive  way,  he  had 
plunged  his  nose  deep  into  the  flour-bag;  his  mouth 
and  nostrils  were  filled  with  flour,  and  his  whole 
face  was  covered  with  it  to  his  eyes.  Off  scampered 
Billy,  seemingly  delighted  with  the  new  discovery, 
while  his  poor  master  paid  the  value  of  one  bag  of 
flour  to  the  mess.  I  could  never  understand  why 
Billy's  sweet  face  should  harm  the  flour,  even  if  he 
did  put  his  nose  in  it. 

Billy  never  appreciated  my  goodness,  for  he  served 
me  a  mean  trick  not  many  days  afterward.  We  came 
into  camp  on  a  very  windy  afternoon,  and  the  hos- 
pital attendants  had  all  they  could  do  to  get  up  the 
large  hospital  tent.  "Water  call"  had  sounded  and 
Billy  was  thirsty,  so  I  undertook  to  take  him  to  water 
without  saddle  or  bridle.  We  reached  the  place  at 
last,  where  many  horses  were  drinking,  and  I  rode  in 
among  them.  I  was  quietly  waiting  for  my  horse 
to  finish  his  drink,  when  he  suddenly  stooped,  bend- 
ing his  forelegs  in  such  a  manner  that  I  slipped 
directly  over  his  head  into  the  water  amongst  the 
horses.  It  created  quite  a  disturbance,  and  off 
scampered  my  steed  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  leaving  me  to  walk  home,  wet  and  muddy. 

While  in  camp  one  evening  a  soldier  was  brought 
to  the  hospital  tent  who  had  been  kicked  by  a  horse. 
The  poor  fellow  suffered  great  agony,  and  received 
little  relief  from  the  Surgeon.  While  on  the  march 
next  day  he  died  in  the  ambulance.  At  night  we 
reached  a  lonely  frontier  post,  and  a  detail  was 
sent  to  bury  him.     No  officer  attended  the  funeral, 

20 


and  no  music  sounded  the  usual  soldier's  dead 
march,  but,  wrapped  in  the  blankets  in  which  he 
died,  he  was  lowered  into  the  earth  to  wait  the 
trumpet  call  of  the  last  day.  His  grave  is  un- 
marked. It  is  customary  in  the  army  to  bury  sol- 
diers with  military  honors.  All  the  officers  of  the 
garrison  and  all  the  soldiers  except  the  guards  are 
present  in  full  dress.  The  Chaplain,  in  his  white 
robes,  marches  with  the  military  procession,  the 
music  playing  the  dead  march.  Arrived  at  the 
grave  the  burial  service  is  read,  and  then  three 
volleys  fired  over  the  coffin  after  it  has  been  lowered 
into  the  grave.  The  last  and  most  touching  scene 
is  the  sounding  of  "taps,"  the  "last  call,"  by  a 
musician  at  the  head  of  the  grave.  As  the  solemn 
notes  sound  out,  all  is  hushed  and  still,  and  all  are 
impressed  by  the  solemnity  of  the  scene.  The  bur- 
ial ceremonies  over,  the  command  returns  to  the 
post  with  the  music  playing  a  lively  tune,  often 
"John  Brown's  Body,"  or  something  equally  gay. 
Such  is  a  soldier's  life  in  peace,  but  in  war  and  upon 
hurried  marches,  ceremonies  even  at  the  grave  are 
dispensed  with. 

Rations  when  the  command  started  were  plenty; 
besides  the  generous  allowance  furnished  by  our 
indulgent  "Uncle  Samuel,"  we  enjoyed  butter,  milk, 
white  sugar,  and  even  the  chief  dainty  dish  of  sol- 
diers, pie.  But  as  w^e  journeyed  westward  luxuries 
disappeared,  and  simple,  very  simple,  army  rations 
were  all  we  had  left.  A  famous  dish,  con- 
sisting  of   soaked    army    biscuit,     called    hardtack, 

fried  in  grease  and  covered  with  molasses  was  high- 
ly prized  by  the   hungry  travelers.     Often  by  the 

evening    eampfire    the    cooks   would    prepare    great 

21 


piles  of  flapjacks,  and  it  was  fun  to  watch  them 
throw  the  cake  high  in  the  air  as  they  turned  it, 
and  catch  it  as  it  fell.  As  long  as  sugar  and  sirup 
lasted,  these  were  famous  treats.  They  would  seem 
rather  indigestible  to  those  who  live  in  civilization, 
but  hunger  is  a  good  sauce,  as  many  readers  will 
find  out  some  day,  if  they  have  not  already  dis- 
covered it. 

Before  the  day  began  to  break,  often  as  early  as 
3  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  Reveille  would  call 
us  from  our  slumbers.  The  campfires  lighted  up  the 
scene  again ;  a  sudden  striking  of  tents,  as  if  by 
magic,  and  a  systematic  stowing  away  in  the  great 
wagons ;  then  came  a  hurried  breakfast  of  coffee, 
hardtack  and  bacon  around  the  campfires,  and  then 
sounded  "boots  and  saddles,"  and  the  command  had 
started  on  another  march.  The  old  guard  of  yes- 
terday closes  up  the  rear.  As  we  pass  out  into  the 
road  and  our  campfires  fade  away,  we  can  see  that 
the  Indians  have  taken  possession  and  are  search- 
ing for  what  we  have  left  behind  us,  and  warming 
themselves  where  we  were  only  a  few  moments  ago. 
T>aj  dawned  when  we  had  already  traveled  some 
distance  and  our  camp  had  long  since  been  out  of 
sight  and  in  possession  of  the  enemy. 

We  crossed  the  Arkansas  River  July  4,  and  cel- 
ebrated the  day  after  crossing  by  some  extras  at 
dinner,  a  grand  bonfire  and  some  homemade  fire- 
works in  the  evening. 

Our  marches  were  not  always  made  near  cool 
springs,  and  often  we  marched  from  water  to  water 
carrying  what  we  could  in  our  canteens;  but  this 
supply  soon  became  -warm  and  unfit  for  use,  and 
considerable   suft'ering   would   result.     Sometimes   as 


22 


we  approached  water  holes,  or  buffalo  wallows,  filled 
with  water,  the  dogs  would  plunge  in  before  we 
could  unsling  our  canteens.  We  found  the  Arkansas 
River  water,  when  encamped  on  that  stream,  red 
with  mud  and  quite  uninviting  in  appearance,  but 
after  dipping  out  a  pailful  and  letting  it  stand  a 
few  minutes  the  sediment  would  settle  and  the  water 
become  clear  and  delicious  to  drink.  The  daily 
march  was  not  a  long  one,  averaging  only  15  to  18 
miles,  but  with  slow  pace,  three  miles  an  hour  or 
less,  and  many  halts  and  obstacles  before  us  to 
overcome,  like  broken  roads  and  fords  to  cross. 
Cavalry  proceeds  v/ith  no  greater  speed  than  in- 
fantry, when  encumbered  with  heavy  trains,  and 
three  miles  an  hour  was  considered  a  fair  average 
across  the  plains.  Sometimes  our  march  covered 
only  10  miles,  and  again  we  made  a  long  journey. 
It  depended  very  much  upon  the  supply  of  wood, 
water  and  grass. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  find  rattlesnakes,  if  one 
wished,  near  camp,  or  a  little  way  on  either  side 
of  the  marching  column.  The  plains  were  full  of 
them  then,  and  they  were  much  dreaded  in  camp, 
where  they  often  appeared,  sometimes  startling  the 
cooks  near  the  morning  campfire,  or  even  crawling 
beside  the  sleeping  soldier  wrapped  in  his  blanket 
in  his  tent.  We  found  one  in  our  tent  one  morning, 
and  you  can  imagine  our  fright.  The  snake  paid 
for  his  intrusion  with  his  life,  however,  but  that  was 
poor  comfort  to  us.  One  afternoon,  after  making 
camp,  a  friend  of  mine  went  out  for  a  walk  but 
a  little  way  from  the  hospital  tent.  He  had  re- 
moved his  riding  boots  and  wore  a  light  pair  of 
slippers.      In    climbing    a    little    rising    ground    a 


23 


rattlesnake  bit  him  on  the  itistep.  The  wound  was 
sucked  upon  his  reaching  camp  and  carefully 
cauterized,  and  a  heavy  dose  of  whiskey  given  him. 
He  was  put  to  bed  in  the  ambulance  and  never  ex- 
perienced any  further  trouble  from  the  wound.  The 
whiskey  was  supposed  to  have  cured  him.  He  was 
a  brave  fellow,  not  easily  frightened,  for  after  be- 
ing bitten  he  sat  down,  and,  taking  careful  aim 
with  his  pistol,  shot  the  snake  through  the  head 
and  brought  his  remains  to  camp  as  a  trophy.  The 
rattlesnake  bite  it  not  always  so  easily  cured.  In 
this  case  the  snake  may  have  emptied  its  poison  bag 
shortly  before  he  bit  the  soldier,  or  the  venom  may 
have  been  stopped  by  the  stocking  or  slipper  from 
reaching  the  wound.  I  used  to  take  a  cavalry  saber 
and  ride  just  a  little  way  from  the  line  and  cut  off 
the  heads  of  the  snakes  from  horseback.  I  would 
then  cut  off  the  rattles  and  send  them  home  in  let- 
ters as  curiosities.  The  rattlesnake  sounds  a  loud 
alarm  before  he  strikes,  usually  giving  one  some 
chance  for  defense. 

It  was  not  permitted  for  any  member  of  the  train 
to  loiter  behind  or  to  separate  from  the  command, 
except  by  special  permission  of  the  commanding 
officer.  One  hot  day  we  passed  a  little  clump  of 
trees,  and  a  friend  suggested  a  short  halt  and  rest. 
We  dismounted  and  tied  our  horses.  Sitting  down 
and  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  we  were 
soon  fast  asleep.  At  last  awakening,  what  was  our 
astonishment  to  find  ourselves  alone,  without  a  liv- 
ing soul  in  sight  and  nothing  of  the  train  in  the 
distance.  We  noticed  by  the  sun  that  we  must 
have  rested  some  time,  and  with  a  few  hasty  words 
we  Averc  in  the  saddle  galloping  in  the  direction  of 


24 


the  train  as  fast  as  we  could  go.  We  were  in  the 
enemy's  country,  and  to  have  awakened  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  party  of  Sioux  Indians  would  have  been 
a  rough  termination  for  our  peaceful  nap,  with  a 
terrible  ending,  no  doubt.  Death  is  always  prefer- 
able to  capture  by  Indians,  for  horrible  torture  is 
as  sure  as  the  death,  which  must  come,  when  the  poor 
prisoner's  body  is  unable  to  offer  more  fun  for  the 
cruel  captors.  It  was  very  much  like  a  narrow  es- 
cape, and  we  were  glad  to  meet  our  comrades  again 
and  say  no  more  about  it. 

We  took  all  the  precautions  possible  against  an  at- 
tack by  Indians,  and  at  one  place  a  severe  battle 
with  them  seemed  inevitable.  This  was  at  a  ford 
called  the  Cimarron  Crossing.  Here  the  savages 
were  in  strong  force.  They  had  been  following  us 
for  days,  and  an  attack  at  daybreak  the  next  morn- 
ing was  accordingly  prepared  for.  Strong  pickets 
were  posted  on  our  right,  center  and  left.  No  herd 
went  out  that  night,  but  all  animals  were  securely 
tied  to  wagons  to  prevent  the  Indians  stampeding 
them.  The  whole  command  slept  on  their  arms,  ready 
for  immediate  action.  Towards  evening  the  guard 
had  lost  several  members  by  soldiers  reporting  sick, 
and  the  writer  obtained  permission  from  the  com- 
manding officer  to  go  out  on  picket  as  a  volunteer 
and  not  only  that  but  good  Major  Whitney  insisted 
upon  adding  his  pistol,  too,  to  the  pistol  carried  by 
the  writer.  The  picket  on  the  right  was  the  station 
given  him.  It  consisted  of  three  men  and  a  non- 
commissioned officer.  We  spread  down  our  ponchos 
and  blankets,  and  flat  on  our  stomachs  we  watched 
along  the  grass  tops  for  any  signs  of  approaching  foes. 
Our  orders  were,  if  attacked,  to  retreat  toward  camp, 
giving  the  alarm  as  we  retreated. 

26 


Slowly  the  night  passed  away.  Our  attention  was 
divided  between  watching  for  Indians  and  defend- 
ing ourselves  against  swarms  of  murderous  mosquitoes. 
It  was  shortly  after  midnight  when  the  Sergeant 
detected  one  or  two  figures  approaching  us  from  the 
direction  of  the  Indians.  We  had  only  a  little  while 
before  noticed  some  signals  made  by  means  of  fire-ar- 
rows, arrows  with  burning  brands  attached,  shot  into 
the  air  at  regular  intervals,  and  so  the  stealthily-ap- 
proaching figures  Ave  supposed  was  the  beginning  of  an 
unusual  event — an  Indian  attack  by  night.  Our  Ser- 
geant roused  us  all,  and  Avith  carbines  at  ready  we 
AA-e  Avaited  their  approach,  intending  to  abandon  our 
blankets  and  hasten  back  to  camp  and  give  the  alarm. 
''Who  goes  there?"  roared  our  Sergeant.  No  reply; 
but  still  the  figures  stealthily  approached.  Once  more 
the  challenge  rang  out,  and  aa^c  AA^ere  noAV  well  ready 
to  retreat,  for  the  figures  were  getting  within  range. 
We  intended  to  give  them  a  A\'arm  reception  before 
we  left  from  our  good  Sharp's  carbines.  Just  as 
Ave  Avere  about  to  feel  sure  the  enemy  was  indeed 
upon  us,  came  the  response  in  the  night  air,  "Officer 
of  the  Day;  grand  rounds."  Hoav  that  little  mes- 
sage thrilled  us.  Although  it  brought  friends  in- 
stead of  foes,  it  seemed  as  if  there  must  be  some 
mistake,  so  certain  were  Ave  of  attack  and  dan- 
ger. The  Officer  of  the  Guard  carried  no  lantern; 
had  only  one  Guard  besides  the  Corporal 
Avith  him,  and  in  the  darkness  had  gotten 
beyond  our  station,  and  only  found  us  after  consid- 
erable difficulty.  Our  first  challenge  was  unheard, 
and  our  second,  by  reason  of  the  distance,  Avas  nearly 
as  indistinct  to  him  as  his  answer  seemed  to  us. 
He  left  us  after  warning  us  that  just  at  daybreak 


we  would  probably  be  attacked;  but  our  wily  foe 
had  discovered  our  alertness  and  decided  it  would 
be  best  to  let  us  alone.  For  this  extra  service  com- 
mendation Avas  ample  reward  and  although  promised 
was  never  heard  of  afterwards.  Indians  rarely  de- 
sire to  fight,  but  are  always  ready  for  stealing. 

As  the  weather  grew  warmer  the  marching  toward 
noon  was  attended  with  considerable  fatigue,  and 
there  were  many  cases  of  sunstroke.  One  day  several 
fell  off  their  horses,  and  the  medical  department  had 
plenty  to  do. 

Near  the  hospital  tent  the  two  ambulances  were 
always  located  in  camp.  The  driver  of  one  of  these 
vehicles  had  made  himself  somewhat  unpopular  with 
the  young  Hospital  Stewards  who  were  with  the 
expedition.  It  was  decided  one  night  to  discipline 
him.  It  was  a  night  when,  by  reason  of  our  prox- 
imity to  the  Indians,  the  mules,  instead  of  being  out 
on  herd,  were  tied  to  the  tongue  of  the  ambulances. 
Our  disagreeable  driver  had  his  team  nearest  our 
tent,  and  he  himself  was  fast  asleep,  dreaming  per- 
chance of  the  money  he  would  make  by  selling  stolen 
corn  at  the  next  settlement.  We  went  out  carefully 
and  collected  a  dozen  or  more  empty  tin  cans — 
plentiful  enough  after  any  meal  on  the  plains ;  these 
w^e  brought  to  our  tent.  The  mules  were  quiet  and 
all  the  camp  was  still.  Suddenly  there  was  a  great 
commotion,  the  mules  sprang  up  and  tugged  at  their 
chains,  making  a  great  noise  and  thoroughly  dis- 
turbing and  enraging  our  ambulance  driver,  who, 
springing  out,  with  kicks  and  imprecations  punished 
them  for  disturbing  his  slumbers.  We  tried  the 
trick  again  later  on  with  the  same  result,  but  the 
third  time  we  were  discovered.     Either  our  victim 


27 


suspected  foul  play  or  the  rattle  of  the  cans  had 
attracted  his  attention,  and  with  angry  strides  he 
came  to  our  tent  door.  "Look  out  for  me,  young 
fellows;  it  you  do  that  again  I  will  report  you  to 
the  Officer  of  the  Day."  Jeers  greeted  his  depar- 
ture, and  we  went  to  rest  to  concoct  new  trials  for 
his  patience.  The  "Old  Man,"  as  we  called  him, 
had  been  cheating  his  mules  of  their  corn  supply, 
and  was  trying  to  save  a  bag  or  two  to  sell  when 
a  good  chance  presented  itself.  A  friend  of  mine 
decided  to  join  me  in  taking  some  of  his  plunder. 
The  corn  ration  for  our  horses  was  exhausted,  and 
for  several  days  we  had  nothing  to  give  them  ex- 
cept the  grass  of  the  prairies.  So  when  we  dis- 
covered the  well-filled  bags  of  the  driver,  we  deter- 
mined to  take  some  of  Uncle  Sam's  corn  to  support 
and  strengthen  Uncle  Sam's  horses.  It  certainly 
could  not  be  considered  stealing.  With  a  basket  and 
a  towel  placed  so  as  to  deaden  any  noise,  we  tapped 
his  bags  night  after  night  for  the  benefit  of  our 
Government  horses.  He  found  us  out  at  last,  and 
although  he  hated  us  well  for  it,  could  not  risk  re- 
porting us  without  disclosing  his  own  dishonesty. 
The  good  condition  of  our  horses  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  several,  but  we  never  explained  where 
our  corn  came  from. 

Our  Paymaster  had  received  at  Fort  Leavenworth 
a  large  sum  cf  money  to  take  with  him  to  Santa  Fe, 
N.  M.,  for  the  payment  of  the  troops.  A  strong  iron 
safe  had  been  provided  by  the  Government 
to  carry  these  funds  across  the  plains  to 
the  District  Headquarters.  The  Paymaster  received 
the  funds  in  a  small  iron  safe.  Upon  consultation 
with  his  clerk  it  was  decided  to  remove  the  money 


28 


from  the  safe  and  hide  it  in  a  strong  wooden  box, 
which  was  placed,  when  tilled,  in  the  bottom  of  the 
Major's  mess-chest.  The  small  empty  safe  was 
placed  in  the  large  safe,  and  carefully  locked  up 
The  large  safe  was  placed  in  the  bottom  of  an  army 
wagon  and  a  special  sentry  detailed  to  guard 
it.  The  lawless,  reckless  characters  amongst  the 
recruits  actually  planned  making  a  disturbance  or 
mutiny,  and  intended  to  murder  any  who  should 
oppose  them  in  carrying  off  the  wagon  containing 
the  safe,  and,  as  they  supposed,  a  large  sum  of 
money.  By  good  luck  and  the  weakening  of  one  of 
the  rascals,  their  plans  were  suspected  and  extra 
precautions  taken.  The  officers  succeeded  in  secur- 
ing some  faithful  men,  who,  together  with  the  old 
soldiers,  made  a  formidable  guard. 

I  well  remember  the  afternoon  our  good  Surgeon 
came  to  the  hospital  tent  and  informed  us  of  the 
anticipated  mutiny  and  robbery.  It  was  agreed 
that  upon  the  first  syraiptoms  of  revolt,  or  upon  hear- 
ing any  firing,  that  we,  with  all  who  were  faithful, 
should  rally  at  the  commanding  officer's  tent  and 
fight  for  our  lives  and  the  Government  property 
The  preparations  for  resisting  the  outbreak  were  dis- 
covered, and  the  attempt  was  given  up.  Had  the 
rascals,  however,  succeeded  in  their  designs  and  car- 
ried off  the  wagon  containing  the  safe,  what  would 
have  been  their  dismay  to  find  it  quite  empty  of 
money,  after  their  efforts  to  break  it  open.  The 
other  wagon,  containing  the  Paymaster's  camp  and 
baggage,  also  contained  the  mess-chest  in  which  the 
precious  money  had  been  hidden,  unknown  and  un- 
guarded, and  in  a  box  which  could  have  been  opened 
by  a  common  chisel.     This  secret  was  well  kept,  and 

29 


not  even  known  by  the  commanding  officer.  The 
Paymaster's  clerk  related  this  to  me  months  after  the 
expedition  had  been  disbanded  and  the  money  spent. 
As  the  tram  advanced  over  the  prairies  hundreds 
of  eyes  scanned  the  horizon  in  every  direction,  and 
any  unusual  object  at  once  arrested  attention  and 
stimulated  curiosity.  The  plains  are  something  like 
the  ocean,  a  great  wilderness  with  little  to  see  ex- 
cept sky  and  grass,  save  here  and  there  a  spot  of 
timber  near  some  stream.  Monstrous,  lonely,  dreary, 
it  is  so  dull  that  the  least  thing  like  change  is  a 
treat.  A  train  approaching  from  the  opposite  di- 
rection, a  scouting  party  of  soldiers,  or  a  few  emi- 
grant wagons,  will  create  all  the  excitement  that 
a  sail  on  the  ocean  approaching  one  after  days 
away  from  shore  always  brings.  One  day,  far  off 
on  the  left  of  the  train,  a  horse  was  discovered,  ap- 
parently wounded,  for  he  remained  on  the  ground, 
now  and  then  floundering  about  as  if  in  pain.  1 
was  asked  to  ride  out  and  examine  him  and  report 
if  he  was  wounded  by  bullets,  arrows,  or  mereh" 
abandoned  by  some  train  as  worthless.  My  good 
horse  Billy  soon  brought  me  to  the  spot.  I  looked 
about  for  an  instant  to  discover  any  signs  of  camp 
or  battleground,  and  then  dismounting  I  walked  up 
to  the  poor  horse  to  see  if  he  was  wounded  or  had 
broken  his  leg,  or  was  merely  sick  and  worn  out. 
Just  as  I  bent  forward  to  examine  him  he  rolled  over, 
lifting  his  legs  high  in  the  air,  thoroughly  frightening 
my  horse,  who  gave  a  wild  snort,  and  snatching  tht 
rein  suddenly  from  my  grasp,  galloped  off  at  a  wild 
rate  over  the  prairie.  No  call  of  mine  would  stop  him, 
and  it  was  a  long,  hard  walk,  past  many  a  deadly 
rattlesnake  to  reach  the  train ;   when   I  climbed  in 


30 


lonely  humiliation  upon  the  feeding  trough  of  an 
army  wagon,  while  two  troopers  chased  Billy  for 
miles  before  they  could  catch  him. 

The  horses  furnished  our  cavalry  at  that  time  were 
really  fine  animals,  and  some  were  worthy  to  carry 
a  prince.  They  came  in  good  condition,  and  I  re- 
member one,  a  large  iron-gray  horse,  the  envy  of 
many  a  cavalryman.  More  than  one  tried  to  ride 
him,  but  met  with  ugly  throws  and  great  discour- 
agements. So  many  gave  him  up  that  he  was  con- 
sidered too  vicious  for  use.  At  last  an  old  soldier, 
who  served  through  the  war  of  the  rebellion,  said  thar 
he  ''would  ride  him  or  perish  in  the  attempt."  The 
permission  was  given,  and  the  "Iron  Duke"  saddled 
and  bridled.  The  soldier  mounted,  and  then  began 
a  struggle  I  have  never  seen  equaled.  A  gallant 
horseman  and  a  gallant  steed.  It  was  exciting  to 
witness  the  wild  leaps  and  plunging  and  rearing  of 
the  steed,  but  the  soldier  kept  his  seat.  The  horse 
at  length,  maddened  and  desperate,  threw  himself 
on  the  ground,  and  quickly  rolling  over,  nearly  killed 
his  rider.  The  soldier  was  carried  to  the  hospital 
tent  and  found  to  be  completely  ruined  for  further 
military  service.  He  was  discharged  and  pensioned. 
The  horse  was  led  to  the  line,  but  the  fire  was  gone 
from  his  eye,  and  he  walked  with  a  conquered  gait. 
After  that  anyone  could  ride  him,  and  his  hand- 
some looks  departed.     He  was  indeed  subdued. 

As  we  neared  Colorado  the  scenery  changed,  with 
views  of  the  glorious  Rockies  in  the  distance.  The 
Spanish  Peaks,  always  "a  day's  journey  away,"  re- 
mained in  sight  for  many  days.  As  we  entered  New 
IMexico  the  mountains  became  a  reality,  and  harti 
climbing  and  difficult  roads  were  now  of  daily  occur- 


31 


rence.  On  we  marched,  over  the  winding  "Picket 
Wire,"  or  Purgatory  river,  through  the  wild  Eaton 
Pass,  and  then  down  into  the  lovely  scenery  of  New 
Mexico;  past  the  "Wagon  Mound,"  famous  for  the 
gallant  fight  of  a  handful  of  emigrants,  who  here 
successfully  held  at  bay  a  host  of  savage  Indians. 
The  dark  mud  walls  of  Fort  Union  came  at  last  into 
view,  and  we  entered  a  charming  valley  and  were 
soon  within  the  Reservation. 

Our  march  was  ended;  its  trials  and  its  pleasures, 
its  dangers  and  its  adventures.  For  the  last  time 
our  camp  was  pitched.  On  the  morrow  we  must 
separate.  As  the  last  notes  of  the  evening  bugle 
echoed  in  the  surrounding  hills,  we  realized  that  ouu 
train  had  reached  its  goal  and  that  the  morrow's 
sun  would  find  us  separating  from  each  other  for 
our  new  duties  and  stations.  The  expedition  was 
at  last  a  thing  of  the  past — disbanded. 


32 


Dr.  W.  T.  Parker  at  IT  yrs.  of  age  in  the  U.  S.  Army  Medical  Dept.  as  Firtt 
ClaBB  Hospital  Steward,  U.  S.  A. 


THE  SANTA  FE  TRAIL  IN  THE 
SIXTIES. 

Fifty  years  ago  our  schoolboy  geographies  showed 
a  great  expanse  of  almost  unmapped  region,  named 
"the  great  American  desert!"  It  may  be  said  to 
have  extended  from  95  degrees  to  105  degrees  longi- 
tude west  and  from  30  degrees  to  49  degrees  north 
latitude. 

In  the  spring  of  1867  rumors  were  received  from 
all  quarters  of  a  renewal  of  Indian  hostilities  and 
attacks  on  the  principal  emigrant  routes  increased 
to  such  an  extent  that  it  required  the  utmost  activ- 
ity on  the  part  of  the  troops  to  keep  open  com- 
munication with  our  territories,  and  protect  working 
parties  on  the  important  railroads  then  in  process 
of  construction. 

Since  the  Indian  commission  provided  by  act  of 
July  20th,  1864,  commenced  its  labors  the  operation 
of  troops  had  been  confined  to  the  defensive,  and  they 
were  principally  engaged  in  guarding  the  more  im- 
portant posts.  Department  commanders  visited  the 
scenes  of  hostilities  in  person  and  made  every  effort 
with  the  means  at  hand  to  afford  protection. 

In  1867  some  of  the  most  powerful  tribes  of 
Indians  were  active  on  the  Great  Plains  and  the 
Santa  Fe  trail  came  in  for  its  share  of  attention 
from  the  Sioux,  Kiowas,  Cheyennes,  Apaches  of  the 
Plains,  Comanches,  "Dog  Warriors"  and  other  bands 
of  Indians. 


33 


"The  amount  of  freight  carried  by  caravans  from 
the  Missouri  river  to  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico,  as  early 
as  1860  was  estimated  at  more  than  thirty-six  mil- 
lion pounds,  and  emigrants  with  goods  and  stock 
made  constant  travel  over  the  famous  trail,  enduring 
the  hardships  and  surmounting  the  difficulties  and 
dangers,  continued  through  the  60 's  to  brave  all  these 
dangers,  as  well  as  traders  and  merchants  carrying 
great  supplies  to  the  southwest." 

The  great  American  desert  as  we  saw  it  then  for 
the  first  time  in  '67  has  disappeared.  In  its  place 
to-day  we  find  great  pasture  lands,  farms,  villages, 
towns  and  cities.  Where  we  marched  slowly  and 
amid  sufferings  and  dangers,  we  can  pass  along  the 
same  route  reclining  comfortably  in  the  chairs  of  a 
parlor  car,  and  in  an  hour  pass  the  camping  places 
of  days  "in  the  Sixties!" 

But  the  thousands  who  have  come  from  far  awa>' 
homes  to  make  a  home  in  Kansas  and  New  Mexico, 
know  little  of  the  battle  which  was  fought  to  secura 
the  West  to  civilization.  In  the  old  frontier  days 
the  great  plain  was  only  sparsely  protected  by  the 
so-called,  "forts,"  and  the  feeble  garrisons  had  self 
preservation  ever  in  necessity,  although  the  needi 
of  the  weaker  added  increasing  trials  and  dangers 
to  situations  often  desperate.  The  chain  of  forts 
began  with  Leavenworth,  a  strong  and  secure  gar- 
rison, then  westward  to  Riley,  also  safe  in  its 
strength,  but  beyond,  the  little  forts  of  Harker, 
Lamed,  Zarah,  Dodge,  Lyon,  and  Bent's  fort,  were 
by  no  means  secure.  Along  the  Santa  Fe  trail  the 
anxious  emigrants  rested  with  thankful  hearts  near 
these  little  stations,  and  renewed  their  preparations 
to  continue  the  westward  journey.     These  forts  had 


34 


been  constructed  at  heavy  expense,  and  with  great 
toil  and  hardship  by  the  soldiers  who  worked  like 
day  laborers  in  their  construction,  in  addition  to 
their  military  duties.  The  Santa  Fe  trail  was  the 
artery  which  nourished  much  of  this  important  re- 
gion. The  forts  could  be  found  only  at  infrequent 
intervals  from  Fort  Leavenworth  in  Eastern  Kan- 
sas, down  to  Fort  Union  in  New  Mexico,  and  be- 
yond Santa  Fe  the  "trail"  continued  past  Fort 
Craig.  And  beyond  the  Rio  Grande  stretched  the 
grim  "Jornada  del  Muerto,"  the  journey  of  death, 
nearly  a  hundred  miles,  where,  after  reaching  Fori; 
Selden,  it  continued  on  to  Fort  Cummings  in  South- 
eastern New  ]\Iexico,  and  40  or  50  miles  further  to 
Fort  Bayard,  and  so  on  past  the  deadly  Apache 
pass,  and  Fort  Bowie,  into  the  Arizona  desert. 

On  May  22nd,  1867,  a  detachment  of  less  than 
400  men,  mostly  recruits  for  the  famous  3rd  U.  S. 
Cavalry,  which  had  been  stationed  for  so  many 
months  in  the  southwest,  and  already  famous  as 
Indian  fighters — marched  out  of  Fort  Leavenworth 
en-route  for  New  Mexico.  At  Fort  Eiley  the  re- 
mainder of  the  expedition  joined  and  proceeded 
westward  under  command  of  Major  Whiting. 
Among  the  officers  were  Surgeon  Peters,  Paymaster 
Rochester,  Captain  Lieber,  Quartermaster's  Depart- 
ment, and  Lieutenants  Hildebran,  P.  F.  Young, 
D.  H.  Quinby,  Thompson  and  Charles  Morris  (now 
colonel  U.  S.  army),  and  some  members  of  the  non- 
commissioned staff  of  the  army,  pay  and  medical 
departments.  There  were  several  ladies  traveling 
with  the  command,  some  of  them  brides  going  to 
join  their  husbands  at  lonely  frontier  stations. 
Many  of  the  great  army  wagons  carried  army  sup- 


35 


plies,  arms  and  ammiinition,  and  a  large  amount  of 
money;  300  led  horses  also  added  great  attractions 
for  our  alert  Indian  enemies.  Of  the  cavalrymen 
less  than  50  were  veterans,  and  only  21  were  known 
as  "picked  men"  for  scouting  and  flank  work. 
The  recruits  were  below  the  average,  and  among 
them  many  reckless  characters,  some  of  whom  were 
regular  horse  thieves  who  had  enlisted  at  Carlisls 
Barracks,  Pa.,  bent  only  on  adventure  and  horse 
stealing;  of  these  several  who  deserted  with  horses 
were  captured  and  killed  by  Indians.  Desertions  and 
loss  of  horses,  arms  and  equipments,  etc.,  began  soon 
after  leaving  Fort  Eiley  and  continued  in  spite  of 
the  presence  of  large  bodies  of  hostile  Indians  un- 
til the  crossing  of  the  Arkansas,  below  Bent's  Fort, 
on  the  Santa  Fe  trail. 

Indians  were  continually  threatening  and  at  the 
Cimarron  Crossing,  such  a  large  number  of  Siour, 
Cheyennes,  Apaches  of  the  Plains,  Blackfeet, 
Kiowas,  Arapahoes,  Dog  Warriors,  and  other  Indians 
had  collected  that  the  odds  were  reckoned  as  "ten 
to  one ! ' '  Most  of  the  men,  as  already  stated,  wer3 
unfit  to  meet  such  an  ovenvhelming  force  of  well- 
armed  and  Avell-mounted  Indians.  The  day  and 
night  at  the  Cimarron  was  a  time  of  great  anxiety 
and  danger.  The  camp  was  formed  as  usual,  three 
sides  of  a  square  resting  on  the  river,  with  army 
wagons  in  double  line,  and  in  the  hollow  square 
the  ambulances  for  the  women,  the  long  rope  lines 
for  the  cavalry  horses,  the  mules  tied  to  the  wagons. 
Three  strong  pickets  were  posted,  in  one  of  which 
the  writer  spent  most  of  the  night,  right  rear,  right 
center  and  right  advance,  with  a  guard  on  the 
river,  and  the  entire  command  rested  on  their  arms 

36 


throughout  the  night  prepared  for  iramecliate  action. 

As  we  had  an  experienced  Indian  fighter  in  Major 
Whiting,  our  commander,  we  crossed  the  plains 
with  all  possible  discipline  and  caution,  and  ever 
ready  to  meet  attack  and  avoid  surprises  or  ambush. 
The  wagon  masters  were  prepared  to  form  a  large 
oval  with  the  wagons,  within  which  ambulances, 
horses  and  soldiers  could  find  shelter.  This  movc^ 
ment  could  be  carried  out  on  the  march  immediately 
upon  given  signals.  Far  out  on  our  right  flank 
rode  in  advance  our  most  trusty  scouts,  and  flankers 
of  picked  men.  The  advance  guard  of  cavalrymen 
led  the  column.  It  would  be  the  rearguard  to-mor- 
row, and  between,  squadrons  of  cavalry,  divisions 
of  our  army  train,  wagons  and  ambulances  and 
extra  led  cavalry  horses.  To  our  left  was  the  great 
Arkansas  river.  It  was  quite  a  formidable  looking 
column,  but'  unfortunately  we  had  no  cannon. 

The  daily  life  varied  little.  We  had  our  reveille 
at  3  o'clock  in  dangerous  regions,  and  by  dawn  all 
the  tents  were  stored  in  the  wagons  and  the  entire 
command  in  the  saddle  moving  out  of  our  old  camp 
ground  while  our  Indian  foes  cautiously  crept  up 
to  our  smouldering  fires  looking  for  our  leavings. 
We  never  exchanged  shots  with  them,  nor  even 
shouts,  but  we  watched  each  other  in  silence  ready 
for  an  emergency. 

The  command  marched  on  the  average  three  miles 
an  hour,  for  although  we  were  of  a  cavalry  com- 
mand, the  pace  is  ever  set  by  the  mule  wagons, 
which  is  usually  three  miles  an  hour,  although  often 
less.  Some  days  we  could  only  travel  12  miles  dur- 
ing the  entire  march  owing  to  heavy  or  rough  roads, 
or  dangerous  surroundings,  or  the  delay  incident  to 


37 


fording,  or  accidents  on  the  trail.  Other  days  we 
would  march  our  average  21  miles.  Guard  mount 
was  in  the  afternoon,  following  sick  call,  and  early 
evening  found  us  with  lights  out,  resting  on  the 
beds  of  army  blankets  spread  on  the  prairie  grass. 
Now  and  then  a  sudden  rain  storm  would  strike  tht 
tents,  and  add  confusion  and  discomfort  to  camp  life. 

Once  owing  to  a  sudden  rise  of  water,  we  lost  two 
troopers  by  drowning,  and  also  several  wagons 
loaded  with  army  supplies  were  stuck  in  the  mud 
and  abandoned.  Once  some  wagons  were  saved  only 
by  sacrificing  bags  of  sugar  and  flour.  On  one 
occasion  the  commanding  officer  discovered  that  a 
plan  had  been  formed  by  some  desperate  characters 
among  the  recruits  to  seize  by  force  and  carry  oft' 
the  wagons  supposed  to  contain  the  money  which 
the  pajTiiaster  was  taking  to  New  Mexico,  but  our 
old  Indian  fighter  was  ready  for  the  conspirators 
and  the  plan  was  foiled. 

On  the  march  oats  and  corn  gave  out  and  the 
horses  and  mules  fared  poorly  for  a  time  with  no 
other  food  than  prairie  grass  and  muddy  water. 
The  soldiers'  clothing  and  boots  wore  out  and  "gun- 
ny sacks"  used  as  armless  sweaters,  and  rags  tied 
about  the  feet  had  to  answer  the  need.  Food  be- 
came scarce  and  soaked  hard  tack  was  a  luxury.  Our 
camp  fire  fuel  was  mostly  "buffalo  chip,"  dried 
dung,  of  which  vast  quantities  then  covered  the 
great  prairies,  as  did  also  the  white  bones  of  thtB 
buffalo,  and  not  infrequently  we  found  human  bones 
telling  of  possible  "battle  and  murder  and  sudden 
death." 

The  following  letter  from  Colonel  Morris,  U.  S. 
army,  is  interesting  in  this  connection : 


38 


"I  was  one  of  the  officers  that  accompanied  Majoi' 
Whiting's  command  to  New  Mexico  in  1867.  Be- 
sides the  officers  you  mention  (Qiiinby,  Thompson, 
Rochester,  Dr.  Peters  and  Young)  there  was  a  Lieut. 
Hildebran  of  the  cavalry  and  Capt.  Lieber,  a  mili- 
tary store  keeper  of  the  Q.  M.  Department.  I 
remember  very  well  that  eventful  day  and  night  at 
the  Cimarron  Crossing.  In  our  efforts  to  mak<i 
the  300  odd  horses  take  the  water  and  cross  to  the 
opposite  shore,  the  quartermaster-sergeant  and  my- 
self, being  the  only  ones  mounted  at  the  time,  wery 
carried  back  from  the  river  with  the  herd  that 
stampeded.  The  fleetness  of  our  horses  enabled 
the  sergeant  and  myself  to  lead  the  stampeded  ani- 
mals back  to  the  picket  line,  the  trumpeters  sounding 
"Stable  call!"  Our  predicament  was  far  more 
serious  than  we  at  the  time  realized  it  to  be,  for 
had  the  Indians,  that  we  knew  to  be  numerous  and 
aggressive,  attacked  us  with  our  command  divided 
as  it  was,  I  believe  they  could  have  captured  every- 
thing on  their  side  of  the  river.  (Note — I  believe 
the  Indians  numbered  between  three  and  four  thou- 
sand, outnumbering  us  as  one  to  10. — W.  T.  P.) 
Our  experience  at  Fort  Zarah  was,  perhaps,  as  dis- 
quieting as  any  we  had,  for  there  we  found  our- 
selves encamped  on  the  rim,  as  it  were,  of  a  basin, 
with  Walnut  Creek  rushing  around  us,  and  gradii 
ally  rising  until  its  waters  rose  to  within  a  few 
scant  inches  of  the  confining  banks,  but  happily 
subsided  before  its  waters  engulfed  us.  I  have 
often  reflected  on  the  many  escapes  we  had  on  that 
eventful  march. 

Yours  very  truly, 
(Signed)  Charles  M ." 


39 


August  2n(l,  1846,  Kearney's  American  army  left 
Bent's  Fort  on  the  Arkansas.  The  route  was  nearly 
identical  with  the  later  line  of  stages  which  traveled 
amid  dangers  of  every  kind,  down  into  New  Mexico. 
It  differed  but  slightly  from  that  of  the  modern 
Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  railroad.  The 
crossing  is  made  a  short  distance  below  the  fort. 
The  trail  leads  on  to  Trinidad  and  Raton's  pass,  and 
here  is  the  glorious  view  of  the  New  Mexico  plains, 
a  sight  worth  months  of  dangers  to  witness. 

The  country,  if  its  glories  could  be  rightly  de- 
scribed, should  bring  countless  thousands  to  enjoy 
its  lifegiving  climate  and  its  many  opportunities  to 
acquire  more  than  a  mere  living. 

The  valley  of  the  Purgatory  river.  The  Picatoire, 
a  eurruption  of  the  "  Purgatoire, "  and  called  by 
soldiers  and  plainsmen  the  "picket  wire."  The 
trail  frequently  crosses  the  remarkably  winding  river. 

A  little  to  the  left  of  the  trail,  after  the  valley 
is  reached,  rises  the  famous  wagon  mound  where 
many  a  bloody  battle  has  been  fought  between 
Indian  tribes  and  by  white  men  holding  Indians  at 
bay. 

From  here  on  to  Fort  Union  there  was  no  garrison, 
and  the  trail  was  wide  and  open  and  comparatively 
safe. 

This  garden  spot  of  New  Mexico  has  almost  for- 
gotten the  hardships  and  dangers  of  the  60 's. 

Men  like  Richard  Worten,  "Uncle  Dick," 
who  kept  a  "hotel"  up  the  Raton  mountain,  and 
old  Jim  Bridger,  helped  to  solve  many  dubious 
questions  in  the  building  of  the  earlier  transcontinen- 
tal lines.  They  acted  their  part  in  aiding  to  map 
out  railway  routes,   and  they  had  helped  establish 


40 


the  pony  express,  and  had  been  pilots  for  wagon 
trains  and  government  expeditions  like  Kit  Carson, 
Bent,  Billy  Dixon,  Amos  Chapman,  James  Hickok, 
and  many  other  heroes  of  the  plains. 

The  district  of  New  Mexico  was  a  portion  of  the 
Department  of  the  ^Missouri,  whose  headquarters  was 
at  Fort  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  the  district  of  New 
Mexico,  headquarters  were  at  Santa  Fe,  with  Brevet 
Major-General,  George  W.  Getty  in  command.  He 
was  colonel  of  the  new  colored  regiment,  the  37th 

Infantry. 

The  Fra  Christobal  entrance  of  the  Jornada  del 
Muerto  (del  los  Muertos)  is  reckoned  at  946  miles 
from  Fort  Leavenworth.  Dona  Ana,  a  Mexican 
town,  is  95  miles  from  Fra  Christobal.  The  famous 
Cimarron  Crossing  of  the  Arkansas  is  492  miles 
from  Fort  Leavenworth. 

The  Fra  de  los    Caballos    mountains    are    to    the 
right  and  westward  of  the  famous  Journey  of  Death. 
Jornada  del  Muerto,  after  crossing  the  Rio  Grande 
river,  below  what  was  in  Indian  days.  Fort  Craig. 
The  soldiers  reckoned  the  ''99  miles,  without  wood, 
water  or  grass,"  from  Fort  Craig,  the  northernmost 
point  of  the  Jornada,  to  Fort  Selden,  the  southern- 
most point.     Three    halting    points    on    the    grave- 
decked  trail  of  the  "dead  man's  journey"  gave  the 
only  relief  of  dreariness— the  "Alamand,"  because 
some   Germans  tried  to   dig   a  well   and  were   sur- 
prised and  killed  by  Indians;  the  "Water  holes," 
because  sometimes  a  little  water  collected  there  for 
a  short  time  after  a  heavy  rain,  and  lastly,  on  the 
lower    third  of  the    trail,    below  where  it   branched 
off  to  lonely  Fort  McRae,  near  the  Ojo  del  Muerto, 
the  "Spring  of  Death,"  was  the  famous  "Point  of 


41 


Rocks,"  the  chosen  lair  for  the  Indians  when  they 
tried  to  jump  a  wagon  train  or  other  travelers  07i 
the  Jornada.  Graves  along  the  roadside  were  plent.- 
ful  near  this  place. 

Beyond  Fort  Selden  the  trail  crossed  the  Rio 
Grande  again,  and  65  miles  of  lonely,  dangerous 
trail  extended  to  the  Cook's  Canon  and  Fort  Cum- 
mings  Pony  Express  station.  Here  was  a  veritable 
walled  garrison.  A  somewhat  pretentious  front  of 
"doby"  (adobe)  walls,  with  archway  on  either  side 
of  which  were  guard  rooms,  gave  the  fort  an  an- 
cient look,  which  made  the  American  flag  floating 
from  the  tall  flagstaff  in  the  center  of  the  parade 
ground  look  almost  out  of  place.  These  walls,  about 
15  feet  in  height,  extended  around  the  garrison 
buildings,  forming  a  square,  with  only  one  opening, 
the  door  in  the  rear,  where  a  sentry  always  walked 
his  beat  day  and  night.  To  the  rear  of  the  fort, 
huge  piles  of  hay  for  the  cavalry  of  adjacent  "forts" 
were  stored.  Fort  Cummings  was  the  only  walled 
fort  of  New  Mexico  in  the  60 's,  and  its  situation 
at  the  mouth  of  Cook's  Canon  and  upon  the  trail 
to  Arizona,  which  it  guarded,  gave  it  considerable 
importance. 

Fort  Cummings,  New  Mexico,  located  at  Cook's 
Spring,  in  what  is  now  Luna  County,  was  established 
October  2nd,  1863.  It  was  first  garrisoned  by 
Company  B,  1st  California  Infantry  volunteers. 
The  post  was  abandoned  October  3rd,  1886,  and 
turned  over  to  the  Interior  Dept.,  October  22nd, 
1891.  Cook's  Peak,  a  rugged  mountain  9,000 
feet  in  altitude,  towered  above  the  garrison,  and  was 
known  by  all  the  soldiers  under  the  familiar  name 
of  ''Old  Baldy,"   from  its  commonly  snow-capped 


42 


summit.  Deming  is  the  town  nearest  the  old  fort, 
and  Silver  City  is  the  town  near  its  old  comrade, 
Fort  Bayard,  44  miles  to  the  westward.  Between 
these  two  garrisons  was  the  Rio  Miembres,  just  be- 
yond the  long  and  gloomy  Cook's  Canon;  after 
leaving  Fort  Cummings  and  beyond  the  Rio  Miembres, 
were  the  famous  Hot  Springs  which  the  wild 
Apaches  held  in  such  superstitious  veneration  that 
the  ranchmen  who  drank  of  the  mysterious  waters 
were  secure  from  Indian  attack  as  long  as  they  re- 
mained by  its  magic  influence. 

The  fort  was  designed  by  General  McClellan. 
Through  the  archway  one  could  see  the  two  brass 
cannon  pointing  directly  outward,  one  each  side  of 
the  flagstaff,  and  beyond  could  be  seen  the  rear 
door  of  the  fort,  and  the  sentry  marching  back  and 
forth.  The  little  tin-covered  tower,  above  the  guard 
houses  and  the  arch  of  the  fort,  looked  like  a  little 
pilot  house.  In  this  look-out,  a  sentry  watching  in 
all  directions  for  any  danger  of  Indians  to  the  herds 
and  with  looking  glass  could  signal  the  herders  to 
bring  the  herds  back  to  the  corral.  Watch  was  also 
kept  for  emigrant  trains  attacked  or  followed  by 
Indians  or  for  travelers  in  peril,  and  not  infrequently 
the  cavalry  squad  would  be  sent  out  to  offer  pro- 
tection to  harrassed  emigrants. 

It  is  impossible  for  the  writer  to  close  this  pape.c 
without  saying  a  word  of  praise  for  the  many  brave 
hearts  who  served  on  the  great  plains  in  the  60 's. 
The  "last  call"  has  sounded  for  most  of  them,  and 
never  more  will  ''boots  and  saddles"  mean  the  ex- 
citement of  a  possible  "affair  with  Indians." 

The  veteran  soldier  of  the  Indian  wars  was  a 
soldier  worthy  of  the  name,  and  second  to  none  on 


43 


earth  for  intelligent  courage,  and  fighting  ability. 
There  is  no  "rear"  in  the  fight  with  Indians,  and 
seldom  any  cover,  and  the  only  certainty  is  that  in 
case  of  capture,  death  by  terrible  torture  will  be 
the  ending.  The  Indians  were  brave  and  desperat,^ 
fighters,  and  a  foe  who  could  develop  the  real  man- 
hood of  the  frontier  soldier. 

The  names  of  heroes  like  Custer  and  Elliot,  and 
many  others  will  live  for  all  time,  but  the  lesser 
lights,  the  unnamed  heroes  live  in  the  influence 
which  their  brave  deeds  have  exerted  upon  their 
successors  in  the  American  army. 


44 


THE  JOURNEY  OF  DEATH. 
"Jornada  del  Muerto." 

For  those  who  have  not  yet  forgotten  the  geog- 
raphy in  use  in  our  schools  in  the  early  sixties,  or 
even  before  the  war,  I  will  call  to  remembrance  the 
great  tract  then  known  as  the  "American  Desert," 
said  to  be  "  inhabited  by  numerous  tribes  of  Indians ! ' ' 
That  tract  of  land  is  now  what  might  be  called  the 
"Lost  Desert."  Thriving  towns  and  even  cities 
have  almost  miraculously  appeared,  where  only  a 
few  years  ago  the  brave  frontiersman  kept  keen  eye 
and  cool  nerve  in  a  struggle  for  existence  against 
the  cruel  aboriginal.  Following  down  the  "Great 
Divide"  far  to  the  southward  for  many  days'  journey 
in  New  IMexico,  we  arrived  at  the  little  village  of 
Christobal.  Here  is  the  peaceful  flowing  muddy 
stream  of  world-wide  celebrity,  the  Rio  Grande, 
and  beyond  is  the  gloomy  Jornada  del  Muerto 
or  Journey  of  Death.  This  is  a  tract  of 
desert  plain  land  south  of  Fort  Craig  and  north  of 
Fort  Selden,  New  Mexico,  nearly  100  miles  long.  It 
is  bouuded  on  the  east  by  the  distant  Sierra  Blanca 
Mountains,  and  on  the  west  by  the  Sierra  Cabalia 
and  Sierra  de  Frey  Christobal.  For  seventy-five 
miles  it  is  devoid  of  wood,  water  and  grass.  A 
veritable  "deadly  way"  it  used  to  be,  and  on  its 
flat  surface  the  Indians  in  the  mountains  couM 
easily  discover  a  train  or  party  of  emigrants,  and 

45 


plan  to  intercept  and  capture  them  with  little,  if 
any,  danger  to  themselves.  For  the  white  men 
there  was  no  possible  chance  for  escape.  The 
Apaches  never  take  prisoners  except  for  purposes  of 
terrible  torture,  unless  we  except  the  fate  of  women 
and  children. 

There  used  to  be  three  halting  places  on  this 
desert  in  the  old  times  of  stages  and  mail  wagons, 
called  the  "Aleman,"  "Water-holes"  ("Leguna  del 
Munto"),  and  "Point  of  Rocks."  The  last  and 
most  southerly  was  the  most  dangerous  and  the 
most  dreaded  The  water-holes,  after  a  rainy  season, 
sometimes  held  a  little  water,  and  the  "Aleman," 
the  northern  halting  place,  was  once  inhabited  by 
a  German  family,  who  dug  a  well  and  built  a  cabin, 
but  they  were  all  massacred  by  Indians  and  the  well 
filled  up.  A  lonely,  terrible  journey  it  used  to  be, 
as  its  name  suggested,  and  on  its  road  side  could  be 
seen  the  graves  of  many  a  poor  traveler  who  had 
been  murdered  by  Indians  and  buried  later  by  suc- 
ceeding travelers. 

I  started  from  Fort  Craig,  one  afternoon,  to  cross 
the  Jornada — the  only  passenger  in  the  mail  coach. 
We  had  no  conductor,  so  that  the  driver  and  myseii 
were  quite  alone. 

In  front  of  us  rode,  in  a  spring  wagon,  a  guard 
or  escort  of  colored  soldiers.  After  crossing  th'i 
Rio  Grande,  below  Fort  Craig,  I  noticed  the  drive.-' 
was  getting  more  and  more  under  the  influence  of 
liquor,  and  a  full  bottle  of  some  vile  compound 
from  the  post  trader  which  he  had  purchased  ju.^t 
before  starting  did  not  seem  to  promise  well  for  any 
chance  of  his  return  to  soberness.  To  my  dismay, 
the  colored  escort  kept    far    in    advance,    and    the 


46 


distance  between  their  wagon  and  ours  was  momen- 
tarily increasing.     Once  I  thought  I  would  hail  them 
and  request  their  non-commissioned  officer  in  charge 
to  stay  nearer  the  stage.     The  driving  of  our  stage 
became  more  and  more  careless,  and  after  an  hour 
or  two  of  this    misery,    a  shower  came    up    accom- 
panied by  thunder  and  lightning.     The  mules  be- 
haved badly,  and  when  at  last  a  sharp  squall  struck 
us,  they  turned  suddenly  to  the  left,  and  in  spite 
of' the  clumsy  efforts  of  the  driver  to  restrain  them, 
broke  the  tongue  of  the  stage  short  off,  and  not  till 
then  would  they  come  to  a  standstill.     The  last  I 
had  seen  of  the  escort,  they  were  huddled  together 
with  their  blankets  over  their  heads,  to  keep  off  th3 
rain,  and  after  the  mules  had  quieted  down  I  looked 
up  for  them,  but  they  were  then  nearly  out  of  sight. 
I  fired  my  pistol  several  times  to  attract  their  at- 
tention, but  they  neither  halted  or  looked  around. 
The  situation  was  gloomy  in    the    extreme.     I    was 
practically  alone    on  the    terrible    Jornada,    and  in 
the  condition  best  suited  to   attract  Indians,   i.   e., 
in  distress  with  a  large  target  in  the  shape  of  the 
stage  to  attract  attention.     My  escort  was  worthless, 
and  my  only  companion  in  the  shape  of  a  human 
being  was  now  sound  a  sleep.     I  soon  jumped  out 
and  unharnessed  the  mules,    hitching    one    to    each 
wheel,  and  having  succeeded  in  capturing  and  dem- 
olishing the  cursed    whiskey    bottle    and    what    re- 
mained of  its  contents,   I  went  to  work  to  try  to 
repair  the  damages  received  by  the  stage.     A  rope 
being  at  hand,  I  tried  to  splice,  first  tying  one  end 
to  the  axle  and  then  to  the  end  of  the  tongue,  and 
then  trying  to  splice  the  broken  portions  togethei\ 
I  kept  my  eyes  well  open  and  feared  that  I  should 


47 


soon  be  another  victim  for  Apache  cruelty.  Look- 
ing up  in  the  midst  of  my  work,  I  saw,  to  my  hoi'- 
ror,  some  figures  approaching  from  a  direction 
which  did  not  suggest  the  road.  I  tried  to  rouse 
the  stupid  and  worthless  driver,  but  all  my  efforts 
failed,  and  even  the  words:  "The  Indians  are  com- 
ing," seemed  to  have  no  terrors  for  him.  I  got  in 
and  carefully  loaded  my  only  revolver,  determined 
to  die  bravely  and  also  determined  never  to  be  taken 
alive.  Anxiously  I  watched  the  bold  advance  of 
the  enemy,  who  approached  without  any  caution, 
and  I  accounted  for  this  in  believing  that  they  knew 
how  weak  our  party  must  be  and  feared  not  to  ap- 
proach. A  turn  in  their  course  and  a  rising  of 
the  ground  disclosed  to  my  eye  the  waving  of  a  cape. 
No,  it  must  be  a  blanket!  No,  it  is  a  cape!  They 
are  soldiers!  And  I  sprang  out,  and  in  my  youth- 
ful joy  and  gratitude  ran  forward  to  meet  them, 
and  ready  to  weep  at  my  deliverance.  The  new- 
comers were  of  the  regular  army;  a  cavalry  officer 
and  trooper  crossing  the  lonely  Jornada  to  their 
post,  Fort  McRae — established  by  Captain  Grant  in 
1863 — a  little  off  the  road  to  the  right  of  the  Point 
of  Rocks,  not  far  from  the  celebrated  ojo  del  muerto 
or  spring  of  death.  How  glad  I  was  to  see  them, 
and  they,  when  the  stage  first  came  into  their 
sight,  had  hastened  on,  wondering  what  had  hap- 
pened. The  escort  had  not  turned  back,  but  my 
new  found  friends  took  hold  and  repaired  the  broken 
tongue,  and  as  the  driver  came  to  his  senses  he  got 
a  precious  sharp  lesson  from  the  officer  for  his 
miserable  conduct.  We  started  again  on  our  jour- 
ney, and  at  Water  Holes  found  our  escort  calmly 
waiting  for  us.     When  we  reached  Fort  Selden,  the 


48 


non-commissioned  officer  lost  his  stripes  for  negle-it 
of  duty,  I  believe,  and  so  the  experience  on  the  Jor- 
nada was  ended  much  more  satisfactorily  than  it 
promised  at  its  beginning. 


49 


THE  SENTINEL  OF  THE  SOUTH- 
WEST. 


"The  topography  of  New  Mexico  is  said  to  by 
composed  of  loftly  plateaus  and  crossed  by  moun- 
tain ranges  enclosing  broad  and  fertile  valleys.  Two 
divisions  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  prominent : 
that  on  the  east,  and  the  higher,  ending  abruptly 
near  Santa  Fe ;  the  western,  or  Sierra  Madre  range, 
passing  through  in  a  series  of  lower,  and  often  de- 
tached, mountains  to  join  the  Sierra  Madre  range 
of  Mexico.  High  table-lands,  isolated  peaks  and 
deep  canons  characterize  the  western  side.  The  Rio 
Grande  valley  descends  from  an  elevation  of  nearly 
six  thousand  feet  near  the  Colorado  border  to  three 
thousand  feet  in  the  south.  Several  mountain  peaks 
have  an  elevation  of  twelve  thousand  feet." 

In  Grant  County,  in  the  southern  portion  of  New 
Mexico,  one  of  these  isolated  peaks  known  as  Cook's 
Peak,  but  by  the  soldiers  quite  familiarly  as  "Old 
Baldy,"  is  situated  at  the  southern  extremity  of  a 
typical  New  Mexican  canon  upon  whose  rugged  sides 
are  still  to  be  found  the  skeletons  of  northern  and 
southern  soldiers  who  fought  a  battle  in  its  lonely 
fastnesses.  Here,  too,  in  this  canon  many  an  emi- 
grant train  and  lonely  hunter  have  met  death  at 
the  hands  of  the  cruel  Apaches.  It  was  in  this  same 
canon  that  a  stagecoach  carrying  six  men  fell  into 


50 


an  ambush  of  Indians.  They  turned  the  stage  over 
on  its  side  and  fought  for  days,  holding  off  mur- 
derous Apaches  under  the  command  of  the  famous 
Cochise,  until  at  last  famished  and  exhausted  from 
lack  of  water,  their  ammunition  expended,  the  Indians 
closed  in  upon  them  and  cut  their  throats.  Cochise 
said  that  with  a  hundred  such  men  he  could  drive 
all  the  palefaces  west  of  the  Mississippi  back  to  their 
homes  where  they  belonged. 

This  was  a  famous  old  canon  and  many  adven- 
tures come  to  mind  as  I  see  in  my  mind  "Old 
Baldy,"  more  often  snow-capped  than  not,  risin^.; 
as  a  veritable  sentinel  of  the  southwest  and  towering 
high  above  the  little  garrison  of  Fort  Cummings  so 
often  at  the  mercy  of  its  Apache  enemies.  Betwee\i 
"Old  Baldy 's  Peak"  and  the  garrison  was  a  ranch 
for  pony  express  riders  where  they  changed  their 
horses  and  had  time  to  get  a  little  nourishment. 
Here  relief  riders  took  the  mail  and  dashed  up  the 
canon  crossing  the  Mimbres  at  Mimbres,  dashing  on 
from  thence  past  the  hot  springs  to  Fort  Bayard, 
forty-four  miles  away. 

One  of  those  pony  express  riders  met  with  a  sad 
fate.  The  writer  had  gone  to  Mimbres  from  Fort 
Cummings  with  an  escort  of  two  or  three  troopers 
to  take  medicine  to  the  sick  at  Mimbres  and  upon 
his  return  to  Fort  Cummings  reported  that  he  had 
not  seen  any  Indians,  but  that  the  pony  express 
rider,  Charlie  Young,  had  not  yet  reached  Mimbres. 
This  created  considerable  excitement  at  the  garrison 
because  Charles  was  a  popular  pony  express  rider. 
He  had  been  well  educated  in  a  western  university 
and  his  family  were  prominent  people  in  St.  Louis, 
but  through  evil  associations  he  had  lost  consider- 


51 


able  money  and  had  volunteered  to  the  pony  ex- 
press director  for  the  position  of  a  rider  in  Nevv 
Mexico.  He  was  a  brave  and  companionable  man, 
said  to  be  a  fearless  rider  and  a  crack  shot,  so  when 
his  absence  was  reported  the  commanding  officer 
sent  a  search  party  to  hunt  for  his  remains.  Far 
beyond  CooIj's  gloomy  canon  and  quite  a  distance 
from  the  trail  they  found  his  naked,  mutilated  body. 
Everything  had  been  taken,  including  his  scalp.  The 
soldiers  returned  with  his  remains  which  were  washed 
and  put  in  a  little  rough  coffin  and  buried  in  the 
lonely  post  cemetery  where  I  trust  they  repose  in 
peace  to-day. 

Much  of  the  wood  of  the  garrison  was  obtained 
at  Cook's  Canon  under  the  shadows  of  ''Old  Baldy. " 
A  detachment  of  from  sixteen  to  twenty  men  with 
a  detail  as  guard,  and  all  well  armed,  would  take 
wagons  and  go  into  the  canon  and  procure  what- 
ever wood  they  could  for  the  garrison.  Upon  ont^ 
occasion  some  colored  soldiers  who  had  lately  ar- 
rived from  the  southern  states  came  on  a  party  of 
Apache  Indians.  So  suddenly  did  they  meet  each 
other  that  the  Indians  concluded  it  was  a  military 
force  sent  against  them  and  the  colored  soldiers  con- 
cluded that  the  Indians  were  looking  for  them,  so 
both  Indians  and  soldiers  beat  a  hasty  retreat  and 
the  officers  in  a  very  unamiable  frame  of  mind  drove 
back  to  the  garrison  alone  in  the  wagons. 

In  every  direction  around  old  Fort  Cummings  we 
could  see  our  wily  foe,  the  Apaches,  forever  watch- 
ing us.  Some  mornings  we  would  find  their  tracks 
upon  the  parade  ground  where  they  had  scaled  the 
wall,  crossed  through  the  garrison,  and  scaled  th?. 
other  wall  without  being  observed.     It  was  strictly 


52 


against  the  rules  for  any  soldier  to  leave  the  gar- 
rison without  permission,  and  hunting  parties  in  the 
canon  usually  consisted  of  at  least  a  dozen  men,  but 
one  time  when  few  Indians  had  been  seen  and  things 
seemed  quiet,  so   far  as    Apaches    were    concernea, 
the  writer  obtained  permission  to  ride  out  alone  for 
a  little  rabbit  shooting.     Mounted  on  a  good  horsa 
with  a  Sharp's  carbine  and  a  Navy  Six  shooter  he 
rode  past  the  water  spring   at  which  the  post  got 
its  supply  of  water,  past  the  pony  express  ranch, 
and  around  the  base  of  "Old  Baldy"  up  into  the 
canon,    one    beautiful    quiet   afternoon,    without    an 
Indian  anywhere  in  sight.     Gaining  confidence  from 
the  silence  and  the  pleasure  of  the  ride  he  turned  to 
the  left  and  penetrated    a  little    canon.     In    a    fevv 
minutes,   comparatively  speaking,  he  found  himself 
in  the  midst  of  a  lot  of  Apache  women  setting  up 
tepee  poles.     Of    all    the    astonished    Indians    the 
writer  ever  saw  and    of    all    the    astonishment    the 
writer  ever    endured    this    was    the    banner    event. 
The  Indians  straightened    up    from    their    postures 
with   amazement  written  on  their  faces,  too   aston- 
ished to  make  a  spring  and  drag  the  rider  from  his 
horse.     The  rider  after  a  pause,  which  seemed  very 
long  to  him,  turned  his  horse  completely  around  an.l 
vigorously  using  the  spurs  and  bending  low  on  the 
horse's  neck  he  dashed  towards  the  main  canon  with 
the   yells   of   the   Indians   ringing   in   his   ears,    ex- 
pecting every  minute  a    volley    of    shots.     On    the 
canon  trail  he  saw  the  weekly  buckboard  mail  wagon 
traveling  towards  the  garrison.     As  the  buckboard 
driver  took  in  the    situation    he    whipped    up    his 
horses  and  we  dashed  to  old  Fort  Cummings  with 
all  the  speed  we    could   make.     So    near    were    the 


53 


Indians  that  the  sentinel  on  the  outside  of  the  main 
entrance  fired  npon  them  and  others  joined  in  shoot- 
ing at  our  late  pursuers  as  they  wheeled,  and  soon 
they  were  out  of  sight  round  "Old  Baldy"  and  in 
the  recesses  of  Cook's  Canon. 


54 


THE  PRAIRIE  MONITOR. 


There  are  few  men  living  to-day  who  have  any 
knowledge  of  the  famous  prairie  monitors  which 
were  in  use  in  the  "sixties"  along  the  dangerous 
trail  of  the  "Smol^y  Hill."  In  1867  the  railroad 
penetrated  as  far  as  Fort  Hays,  Kansas,  the  begin- 
ning of  the  "Smoky  Hill"  route.  The  famous 
Smoky  Hill  route  from  Hays  City  went  westward 
to  Wallace  and  thence  on  to  Lake  Station,  Colorado 
Territory.  Cedar  Point  Station,  a  small  outpost 
garrisoned  by  a  company  of  the  5th  Infantry,  was 
one  of  those  forts  in  which  the  enlisted  men  lived 
in  ' '  dugouts, ' '  little  cellars,  and  the  officers  had  their 
quarters  in  wall  tents  built  about  the  sides  with 
rough  lumber.  The  most  deadly  portion  of  this 
trail  extended  westward  through  Ellis,  Trego,  Gove, 
and  Logan  counties,  over  one  hundred  miles  to  Fort 
Wallace,  a  strong  garrison  with  buildings  made  of 
the  beautiful  yellow  stone  of  western  Kansas.  At 
this  time  in  our  frontier  history  the  Indians  were 
making  very  strenuous  effort  to  drive  all  the  whites 
back  from  the  frontier.  Massacres  were  of  frequent 
occurrence,  ranches  were  burned,  the  stock  driven 
off,  and  the  families  of  the  hardy  frontiersmen  were 
doomed  to  an  imprisonment  worse  than  death.  The 
army  details  scattered  along  the  frontier  were  hardly 
strong  enough  to  maintain  their  own  existence. 
This  state  of  affairs  made  staging  and  the  carrying 
out   of  mail  contracts   difficult,   and  generally  dan- 


55 


gerous,  business.  When  the  Indians  were  particu- 
larly active,  an  escort  of  a  half  dozen  soldiers  would 
frequently  be  provided,  but  more  often  the  run  from 
stage  ranch  to  stage  ranch  was  an  exciting  experience, 
and  the  driver  and  the  passengers  had  a  running 
fight  with  the  Indians  a  large  portion  of  the  way. 
Fortunate  the  outcome  if  all  got  through  safe  and 
sound.  Sometimes  the  harrassed  passengers  hoping 
for  security  at  the  next  post-ranch  where  change 
of  horses  and  food  were  usually  to  be  expected, 
found  only  the  smouldering  remains  of  the  build- 
ings, and  the  mutilated  bodies  of  the  defenders.  With 
little  or  no  warning  a  band  of  savage  Indians  would 
swoop  down  on  a  post-ranch,  and  murder  its  little 
garrison,  destroy  the  buildings,  and  drive  off  the 
stock  before  relief  could  be  obtained. 

It  was  this  desperate  state  of  affairs  which  first 
suggested  the  prairie-monitor.  This  frontier  fort 
which  was  so  often  the  despair  of  the  Indians,  antl 
the  protection  of  the  frontiersman,  was  built  after 
the  following  general  plan :  First,  an  excavation 
was  made,  like  that  for  an  ordinary  cellar,  about 
ten  feet  deep,  fifteen  feet  long,  and  averaging  ten 
feet  in  width.  Of  course  these  dimensions  varied 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  ground,  and  the 
number  of  people  to  be  accommodated.  The  struc- 
ture itself  was  hardly  noticeable  a  short  distance 
away,  as  it  was  elevated  only  about  sixteen  or 
eighteen  inches  above  the  surrounding  level  or  just 
barely  high  enough  to  afford  loopholes  for  the  rifles 
of  its  garrison.  Within  planks  were  placed  on 
barrels  or  boxes  on  which  they  stood  to 
obtain  the  necessary  aim  while  firing.  The  roof 
was  made  of  heavy  timbers  covered  deep  with  earth 


56 


so  that  the  Indians  could  not  dig  out  ''the  monitor." 
Sometimes  two  of  these  monitors  were  constructed 
so  as  to  connect  with  each  other  by  means  of  an 
underground  passage;  each  had  an  undergroun(i 
passage  leading  to  a  cellar  in  the  ranch-house  so 
that  when  the  defenders  of  the  ranch  saw  that  the 
time  had  come,  through  fire,  or  the  breaking  down 
of  the  doors  by  the  Indians,  for  them  to  look  to 
this  refuge  for  their  last  hope,  they  jumped  into 
the  cellar,  and  crawling  on  their  hands  and  knees 
through  this  passage,  they  reached  the  monitor.  No 
Indian  would  dare  to  follow  them  in  this  manner, 
as  a  boy  with  an  axe  would  be  sufficient  guard.  One 
dead  or  wounded  Indian  would  block  the  entrance. 
It  was  customary  to  keep  provisions  and  water,  and 
a  reasonable  quantity  of  ammunition,  in  these  moni- 
tors to  provide  for  an  emergency.  The  distance  of 
these  structures  from  the  ranch  depended  upon  cir- 
cumstances. Sometimes  they  were  located  midway 
between  stable  and  dwelling  with  an  underground 
passage  connected  with  each.  The  object  of  the 
double  monitors  was  to  provide  a  crossfire,  and  to 
prevent  the  enemy  from  digging  out  the  besieged. 
The  siege  of  such  a  place  was  usually  of  very  short 
duration,  as  the  Indians  did  not  dare  to  remain  long 
in  one  location.  The  last  of  the  monitors  must  have 
disappeared  years  ago,  as  civilization  has  advanced 
in  its  triumphant  westward  course. 


57 


BILLY  DIXON,  THE  SCOUT. 


William  Dixon,  government  scout— such  was  the 
official  designation. 

Col.  Dodge,  one  of  our  best  authorities  on  tlio 
Indians,  states  that  the  success  of  every  expedition 
against  Indians  depends  to  a  degree  on  the  skill, 
fidelity  and  intelligence  of  the  men  employed  as 
scouts.  For  not  only  is  the  conunand  habitually 
dependent  on  them  for  good  routes  and  comfortabLj 
camps,  but  the  officer  in  command  must  rely  on  them 
almost  entirely  for  his  knowledge  of  the  position 
and  movements  of  the  enemy.  Of  50  men  so  em- 
ployed, one  only  may  prove  to  be  really  valuable. 
Of  the  hundreds  of  men  so  employed  by  our  gov- 
ernment since  the  war  in  our  Indian  campaigns, 
only  a  very  few  have  attained  distinction.  Kit  Car- 
son, California  Joe,  Wild  Bill,  Buffalo  Bill,  Texas 
Charlie,  Amos  Chapman,  Billy  Dixon  and  a  few 
others  are  all  who  have  left  any  lasting  impression 
on  my  mind. 

Billy  Dixon  was  our  government  scout  at  Foit 
Elliott,  in  the  Texan  Panhandle.  He  was  well 
known  as  a  famous  Indian  scout,  and  has  been  in 
many  close  places  with  the  Indians,  and  has  per- 
formed many  valuable  services  for  the  United  States 
army. 

His  scouting  grounds  were  by  no  means  confine  1 
to  the  Panhandle,  but  one  of  his  most  important 
experiences  occurred  at  what  is  known  as  the  Adobe 


58 


Walls.  Col.  Bent  and  Kit  Carson  established,  many 
years  ago,  a  trading  point  at  this  place,  about  two 
miles  above  Bent's  Fort,  for  the  purpose  of  supply- 
ing the  buffalo  hunters  who  had  followed  the  buf- 
falo down  to  this  point  from  the  north,  and  whose 
traffic  had  become  a  gigantic  affair. 

It  was  at  these  Walls  where  a  fierce  fight  took  place 
with  Indians.  The  principal  building,  known  as 
Rath's  store,  has  been  described  by  Capt.  Moses 
Wiley  as  "about  forty  feet  long,  with  two  room.^, 
bastioned  and  embrasured." 

Billy  Dixon  thus  describes  the  fight  which  took 
place  in  the  morning  of  the  24th  day  of  June,  1874. 

''On  the  morning  of  the  24th  of  June,  1874,  I 
was  at  the  Adobe  Walls.  My  buffalo  camp  was  about 
25  miles  from  here,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Cana- 
dian. I  expected  to  start  out  that  morning  on  a 
hunt;  and  as  it  was  warm  weather,  I  slept  out  of 
doors,  in  front  of  the  saloon,  in  my  wagon.  Two 
men  that  were  to  have  gone  with  me  slept  in  the 
saloon.  Our  horses  were  grazing  in  the  bottom, 
toward  the  creek.  My  own  riding  horse  was  pick- 
eted close  to  my  wagon.  About  daylight,  the  men 
sleeping  in  the  saloon  were  awakened  by  the  crack- 
ing of  the  ridgepole,  and,  thinking  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  go  to  sleep  again,  woke  me  in  order  to  get 
an  early  start.  One  man  started  after  the  horses, 
and  had  gone  but  a  short  distance,  when  he  gave 
the  alarm  of  'Indians!'  Looking  in  that  direction, 
I  saw  a  large  number  of  them  crossing  the  bottom, 
and  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  they  were  discovered, 
they  gave  the  warwhoop  and  came  on  a  charge. 

"I  did  not  think  at  the  time  that  they  intended 
to  attack,  but  only  that  they  were  after  our  horses. 


59 


I  therefore  ran  to  my  own  horse,  tied  him  to  my 
wagon,  and  then  got  my  gun.  By  this  time  the  In- 
dians were  within  a  hundred  yards.  I  could  then 
understand  their  intention  was  to  attack  the  houses. 

"I  began  firing  at  them,  and  retreated  into  the 
saloon.  There  were  seven  of  us  in  this  building, 
and  we  fougbt  there  for  some  time,  before  the  men 
in  the  other  buildings  got  roused  up.  We  killed  a 
good  many  Indian  horses  between  the  saloon  and 
the  store.  The  Indians  in  their  charge  passed  be- 
tween the  buildings.  There  were  from  three  to  five 
hundred  of  them,  and  they  completely  surrounded 
us.  They  did  their  best  to  force  in  the  doors,  but 
our  steady  fire  drove  them  off.  They  retreated  to 
the  hills,  about  800  yards  away.  From  here  they 
kept  up  a  continuous  firing,  in  order  to  aid  their 
friends  who  had  lost  their  horses  and  so  could  not 
escape. 

' '  Whenever  a  volley  would  be  fired,  the  dismounted 
Indians  would  rise  from  the  ground,  and  run  ];"} 
or  20  steps  toward  the  hills,  and  then  drop  in  the 
grass  again  to  hide  from  our  fire.  In  this  manner 
a  good  many  of  them  got  away.  Twenty-eight  men 
kept  these  red  devils  at  bay;  three  of  the  white 
men  were  killed.  Two  of  them  were  the  Shadley 
brothers,  who  were  sleeping  in  their  wagon,  and 
were  found  dead  when  we  were  able  to  go  out  and 
look  around  us.  We  buried  all  three  in  one  grave, 
near  the  place  where  the  Shadley  wagon  stood. 

"The  fighting  lasted  from  about  daybreak  until 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  During  most  of  the 
time  we  were  firing  at  a  distance  of  from  two  to 
three  hundred  yards.  Two  Indians  were  killed  and 
left  on  the  field  at  close  range.     Two  were  killed  to 


60 


the  east  of  the  building,  and  one  near  the  Shadley 
wagon.  This  one  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  Indian 
who  killed  the  Shadleys,  as  he  had  plundered  the 
wagon  and  was  making  off  with  some  goods  whe?i 
he  was  shot. 

"About  75  yards  to  the  rear  of  the  store  was  a 
large  pile  of  buffalo  hides,  and  while  the  fight  was 
in  progress  I  noticed  an  Indian  horse  standing  by 
it,  and  could  also  see  the  head  dress  or  feathers  of 
an  Indian,  as  though  he  were  hugging  very  close 
to  the  hides.  I  fired  at  his  feathers,  and  he  dodgeii 
around  to  the  other  side  of  the  pile;  this  brought 
him  within  range  of  the  guns  from  Rath's  house, 
and  he  was  forced  to  dodge  back  again.  In  this 
manner  we  kept  him  in  hot  water  about  ten  minutes. 
I  then  fired  at  his  horse,  which  dropped  at  the  crack 
of  the  gun. 

"I  could  then  see  the  Indian  a  little  plainer,  or 
rather  could  tell  better  where  he  was  standing,  be- 
hind the  pile  of  hides,  by  his  head  feathers.  I  was 
shooting  a  buffalo  gun,  known  as  Sharp's  big  fifty. 
Guessing  at  his  position  as  well  as  I  could,  I  fired 
right  through  the  hides  at  him.  I  must  have 
scorched  him,  for  he  immediately  broke  from  his 
hiding  place,  ran  about  15  steps,  and  then  dropped 
in  the  grass.  He  gave  a  short  yelp  like  a  coyote  at 
every  jump.  After  the  fight  was  over,  we  found 
nine  dead  Indians  lying  within  a  space  of  a  hundred 
yards  square.  When  we  had  got  rid  of  the  Indians 
around  the  buildings,  we  began  firing  at  long  range 
and  drove  them  out  of  sight  over  the  hills. 

"I  went  over  from  the  saloon  to  Rath's  building 
and  found  they  had  barricaded  the  door  with  sacks 
of  flour.     While  looking   out   from  this  position,   I 


61 


noticed  something  wrong  at  the  base  of  the  hills, 
about  800  yards  away.  I  fired  several  shots  before 
I  could  get  the  range  right,  and  then  the  object 
stopped  moving.  When  the  fight  was  over,  I  went 
out  to  see  what  it  was  I  had  been  shooting  at,  and 
found  it  was  a  dead  Indian.  He  had  his  knee 
crushed  with  a  bullet,  and  had  crawled  and  dragged 
himself  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  when  I  hit  him  a  center 
shot  through  the  breast  and  finished  him. 

"It  is  impossible  to  say  what  the  loss  of  th? 
Indians  amounted  to,  but  I  think  it  must  have  been 
very  heavy,  for  besides  the  13  dead  ones  left  on  the 
field,  there  were  found  behind  the  hills  many  indic- 
ations of  wounded  Indians.  At  one  place,  a  lot  )f 
clothing,  such  as  moccasins,  leggings,  blankets,  etc , 
had  been  cut  up  and  destroyed.  The  fragments 
were  bloody,  and  from  these  indications  I  judge  that 
many  of  the  Indians  had  died  of  their  wounds,  and 
their  etiects  were  destroyed  because  they  could  not 
be  carried  off.  The  warriors  were  from  the  Coman- 
ches,  Klowas,  Cheyennes,  and  Arapahoes.  Their  ob- 
ject was  to  plunder  the  stores,  as  they  had  learnerl 
that  there  were  large  quantities  of  ammunition  there. 
The  previous  night,  one  of  the  medicine  men  of  the 
Comanches  had  held  a  medicine  dance  to  determine 
the  advisability  of  attacking  the  place,  and  had  de- 
clared in  favor  of  it,  telling  the  Indians  that  the  med- 
icine was  so  strong  that  all  thy  would  have  to  do  was 
to  ride  up  and  knock  their  intended  victims  on  the 
head  while  asleep. 

"They  came  very  near  succeeding.  Had  they  been 
15  minutes  earlier,  or  had  it  not  been  for  the  crack- 
ing of  the  ridge  log  in  the  saloon,  which  aroused  the 
sleepers,  their  medicine  would  have  been  a  success." 


62 


CONCERNING  ARROW  WOUNDS. 


Although  many  of  our  Indian  tribes  are  at  present 
armed  with  the  most  perfect  modern  breech-loading 
rifles  in  the  60s,  the  arrow  was  the  favorite  weapon  of 
Indian  warriors.  Swift,  silent,  accurate,  and  dead- 
ly, it  possessed  for  their  i)urposes  many  advantages 
either  for  the  chase  or  for  warfare. 

The  arrow,  one  of  the  oldest  of  weapons,  seems  to 
have  nearly  outlived  its  usefulness,  and  no  doubt 
will  soon  exist  only  in  museums  or  in  the  gentle 
sport  of  archery,  but  it  was  an  implement  of 
Indian  w^arfare  worthy  of  consideration.  By 
our  soldiers  stationed  on  the  frontier,  and  inured 
to  constant  Indian  forays,  it  was  regarded  with 
the  greatest  aversion,  the  most  dreaded  of  all 
missiles  to  which  they  were  exposed.  A  single  scratch 
from  one  of  these  terrible  implements  was  more  to 
be  feared  than  a  bullet-wound.  In  one  of  our 
frontier  hospitals  a  soldier  died  in  great  suffering 
from  what  seemed  to  be  a  very  superficial  flesh- 
wound  across  the  chest,  made  by  an  arrow  in  a 
skirmish  with  Indians.  The  arrow  was  left  on 
the  field,  and  so  it  was  quite  impossible  to  determine 
the  nature  of  the  poison;  but  that  he  was  the  vic- 
tim of  a  poisoned  arrow  admits  of  little  doubt.  The 
supposition  that  the  Indian  shoots  his  arrows  care- 
lessly and  wastefully  is  erroneous.     It  is  possible  for 

63 


the  expert  marksman  to  discharge  arrows  rapidly, 
but  it  re(iuires  too  much  time  and  labor  to  make  a 
perfect  arrow;  and,  even  if  the  Indian  were  not 
inclined  to  laziness,  materials  for  arrow-making  are 
usually  too  scarce  to  allow  of  much  waste  of  such 
valuable  ammunition  in  action.  The  arrow  can  be 
shot  with  as  much  precision  as  our  modern  revolvers, 
and  at  one  hundred  yards  is  a  deadly  weapon.  The 
arrow  flies  with  great  swiftness,  and  has  great  pen- 
etrating power.  Several  specimens  in  the  Army 
Medical  Museum  show  how  deeply  an  arrow-head 
can  perforate  bone.  A  soldier  rode  into  Fort  Cum- 
mings,  New  Mexico,  chased  by  Apaches.  He  had 
received  one  or  two  wounds,  from  the  effects  of 
which  he  died,  and  in  the  tree  of  the  saddle  he  rode 
upon,  an  arrow-head  was  so  firmly  imbedded  as  to 
defy  removal  by  hand. 

The  arrow  of  the  American  Indian  is  indeed  skil- 
fully prepared,  light,  straight,  and  strong.  The 
shaft  contains  carefully-made  grooves,  to  allow  the 
blood  to  escape  easily.  Each  tribe,  and  even  each 
warrior,  has  easily-recognized  devices  on  the  shaft, 
so  that  they  are  able  to  determine  from  whom  the 
arrow  came.  To  secure  the  necessary  feathering  re- 
quires skillful  fingers;  but  perhaps  the  best  work 
on  the  arrow  is  shown  in  the  attachment  of  the  head 
to  the  shaft.  After  carefully  drying  and  straight- 
ening the  shaft,  a  slot  is  made  into  which  the  arrow- 
head is  carefully  fitted  and  bound  with  wet  sinew. 
The  drying  of  the  fibres  contracts  until  the  arrow- 
head is  secure. 

Many  of  the  best  arrow-heads  were  manufactured 
in  the  Eastern  States  and  sold  to  Indians  through 
the  traders,  or  even  issued  by  Indian  agents;  but 

64 


they  were  mostly  made  from  scraps  of  iron  hooping, 
of  flint  stone,  bone,  glass,  wood,  etc.  Many  agricul- 
tural implements,  presented  to  the  Indians  by  ad- 
miring Eastern  philanthropists,  furnished  admirable 
opportunities  for  the  manufacture  of  countless  quiv- 
erfuls of  arrows. 

The  attachment  of  the  arrow-head,  although  se- 
cure while  dry,  rapidly  loosens  when  wet,  and  it  is 
on  this  account  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  re- 
move shaft  and  head  from  a  wound.  The  head  is 
almost  certain  to  become  detached  and  remain  hid- 
den or  firmly  embedded  in  the  wound. 

But  if  the  Indian  has  shown  considerable  skill  in 
the  manufacture  of  the  arrow,  he  also  possessed  re- 
markable surgical  ability  in  removing  an  arrow  from 
the  wound. 

The  removal  was  effected  by  taking  a  willow  stick 
and  carefully  splitting  it  and  rubbing  it  as  smooth 
as  possible;  then  the  pith  is  carefully  cleaned  out, 
and  the  ends  rounded  to  present  as  little  obstacle 
as  possible  in  following  the  wound-track.     One  stick 
was  introduced  very  carefully  to  reach  and  cover  the 
uppermost  fang  of  the  head,  and  the  other  to  cover  the 
lower  fang,   and  when  both   are  properly  adjusted 
the  outer  ends  are  bound  to  the  shaft  of  the  arrow, 
and  all  are  carefully  and  slowly  withdrawn.     When 
it  was  possible  to  push  the  arrow  through  until  the 
head    is    exposed    and    cut    off,    it    was    done;    the 
shaft  could  then  be  drawn  backward  easily.     No  trac- 
tion should  ever  be  made  with  the  shaft  unless  the 
head  has  been  removed;  for  the  least  effort  in  this 
direction  is  sure  to  loosen  it  and  leave  the  head  m 
the  wound,  thereby  adding  increased  dangers  to  a 
wound  already  serious. 


65 


Much  difference  of  opinion  seems  to  exist  con- 
cerning the  poisoning  of  arrows,  and  many  deny- 
that  the  American  Indian  intentionally  poisons  his 
arrows;  nevertheless  it  is  generally  admitted  that 
most  of  our  Indian  tribes  practice  the  art  of  arrow- 
poisoning  and  show  considerable  devilish  ingenuity 
in  doing  so.  In  the  first  place,  we  must  consider 
that  all  tribes  held  more  or  less  secret  all  that  re- 
lated to  the  education  of  the  warrior,  and  it  was  not 
surprising  that  the  mysteries  of  arrow-poisoning  were 
not  so  lightly  valued  as  to  enable  any  one  to  become 
familiar  with  the  process.  It  was  very  naturally  a  se- 
cret which  few  warriors  would  care  to  communicate. 
Many  substances  were  used,  and  undoubtedly  some 
methods  elaborate  in  disgusting  details  fail  to  make 
the  arrow  as  poisonous  as  some  of  the  simpler  meth- 
ods seem  to  do.  Some  rely  upon  juices  pressed  from 
poisonous  plants,  into  which  not  only  the  heads  but 
the  shafts  also  are  dipped,  and  others  use  animal 
substances  and  fluids,  like  rotten  flesh  and  putrid 
blood,  even  reserving  portions  of  dead  enemies  for 
this  purpose,  although  this  last  method  is  very  rare 
indeed.  Some  use  a  combination — for  instance,  a 
liver  and  mashed  serpents'  heads — but  generally 
each  warrior  or  family  have  their  own  secret  method 
of  poisoning,  as  well  as  of  preparing  the  "medicine" 
to  make  the  arrow  deadly. 

Perhaps  the  commonest  method  and  least  secret 
of  all  was  to  take  a  beef's  liver  and  stick  it  full  of 
arrows,  like  pins  in  a  pin-cushion,  and  leave  it  in 
the  sun  until  the  animal  mass  had  rotted  away.  M 
Hoffman*  has  stated  regarding  "poisoned  arrows," 
at  a  recent  seance  of  the  Societe  d 'Anthropologic, 
that  "the  Apaches   bruise   up   the   heads   of   rattle- 

66 


snakes  with  fragments  of  deer's  liver,  allow  the  mass 
to  become  putrid,  then  dip  the  arrow-points,  and 
allow  them  to  dry  slowly."  lie  also  mentions  the 
use  of  poisonous  plants,  i.  e.,  the  ''Spanish  bayonet," 
also  red  ants  pounded  together,  and  other  methods. 

Besides  being  more  elaborately  decorated,  if  not 
certainly  poisoned,  the  w^ar  arrow  differed  in  make 
from  the  plainer  hunting  arrow.  The  head  of  the 
war  arrow  is  shorter  and  broader  than  that  of  the 
hunting  arrow,  and  is  attached  to  the  shaft  at  right 
angles  with  the  slot  which  fits  the  bowstring,  the 
object  of  this  being  to  allow  the  arrow  in  flight  more 
readily  to  pass  between  the  human  ribs,  while  the 
head  of  the  hunting  arrow,  which  is  long  and  nar- 
row, is  attached  perpendicularly  to  the  slot,  to  allow 
it  to  pass  readily  between  the  ribs  of  the  running 
buffalo. 

These  arrows  are  also  used  for  conveying  fire, 
either  in  considerable  masses  to  set  fire  to  hay  or 
to  inflammable  buildings,  or  as  signals  at  night. 
The  writer  was  once  with  an  expedition  crossing  the 
plains,  and  at  Cimarron  Crossing  the  whole  com- 
mand was  surrounded  by  large  numbers  of  Indians, 
who  during  the  night  seemed  to  be  in  communica- 
tion with  each  other  from  one  side  of  the  river  to 
the  other  by  means  of  fire-arrows. 

All  these  details  which  I  have  mentioned  show  how 
skilfully  the  Indian  arrow  was  made,  and  also  what 
a  formidable  weapon  it  must  be  in  the  hands  of 
experienced  and  crafty  marksmen. 

The  following  remarkable  case  illustrates  the  fact 
that,  while  the  simplest  arrow-w^ounds  may  prove 
mortal,  recovery  can  follow  a  wound  which  from  its 
very  nature  seemed  certainly  to  have  no  other  than 
a  fatal  result  in  prospect: 

67 


While  passing  through  the  little  town  of  Trinidad, 
Colorado,  some  years  ago,  I  was  called  to  see  a  man 
who  had  received  a  severe  and  apparently  desper- 
ate arrow-wound  through  the  right  chest  in  a  skir- 
mish with  Indians  a  day  or  two  before.  The  arrow 
had  penetrated  quite  through  the  right  lung.  Either 
the  arrow-head  had  passed  quite  through  between 
the  posterior  ribs  in  the  first  instance,  or  had  nearly 
done  so,  and  had  finally  been  pushed  out  (probably 
by  some  one  familiar  with  arrow- wounds).  At  any 
rate,  enough  had  passed  through  to  allow  of  detach- 
ing the  head  from  the  shaft,  and  then  the  shaft  it- 
self had  been  withdrawn  the  entire  length  of  the 
wound. 

Some  hemorrhage  had  followed  this  rough  sur- 
gery, but  how  much  I  was  unable  to  ascertain, 
and  the  shock,  which  had  at  first  prostrated  the 
patient,  had  been  recovered  from.  I  found  the 
patient,  a  strong,  young  man,  in  bed,  apparently 
comfortable,  and  without  cough.  He  seemed  to  have 
little  if  any  serious  pain,  but  his  countenance  exhib- 
ited suffering.  I  ordered  cold-water  compresses,  and 
left  some  Dover's  powders  to  be  taken  at  intervals, 
and  I  also  left  some  quinine  and  a  couple  of  bottles 
of  wine  for  his  convalescence.  Some  months  after- 
wards I  met  the  man  in  robust  health,  driving  a 
Rocky  Mountain  four-horse  stage-coach,  and  with 
only  the  external  marks  of  his  desperate  wound  re- 
maining. I  understood  from  him  that  his  recovery 
had  been  rapid  and  without  any  further  hemorrhage 
or  other  dra\ybacks.  He  seemed  to  have  the  free  use 
of  his  lungs  also. 

Surgeon  Bill,  U.  S.  A.,  has  contributed  to  Ash- 
hurst's  "International  Encyclopedia  of  Surgery"  a 

68 


most  interesting  article  on  arrow  wounds.  *  He  says 
that ' '  arrow- wounds  penetrating  the  chest  and  wound- 
the  lung,  although  serious,  are  by  no  means  mortal. 
*  *  *  If  the  patient  survives  the  period  of 
hemorrhage  the  prognosis  is  favorable,  for  the  con- 
secutive inflammation  is  usually  trifling,  and  requires 
no  treatment  beyond  placing  the  patient  at  rest  and 
affording  a  supply  of  pure  warm  air."  He  also  di- 
rects that  "if  the  head  of  the  arrow  has  passed  from 
one  side  of  the  chest  to  the  other,  it  should  not  be 
operated  upon  with  a  view  to  removal  backward, 
but  should  be  pushed  forward  between  the  ribs  un- 
til the  head  can  be  detached  from  the  shaft,  and  then 
the  shaft  withdrawn."  Dr.  Bill  also  states  that  "if 
the  head  of  the  arrow  has  been  left  in  the  lung  tissue, 
nothing  can  probably  be  done  for  the  patient."  In 
Dr.  Bill's  table  of  arrow- wounds  of  the  chest,  he 
shows  that  in  eighteen  cases  there  were  thirteen 
deaths — about  72  per  cent.  There  were  five  recov- 
eries. 


*W.  T.  P.  in  Philadelphia  Medical  and  Surgical  Reporter, 
July  28,    1883. 


69 


INDIAN  REVENGE. 


The  spirit  of  revenge,  strong  as  it  is  in  all  human 
beings,  is  peculiarly  noticeable  in  our  North  Ameri- 
can Indians. 

Yet  "Lex  talionis,"  or  the  law  of  retaliation,  is  by 
no  means  confined  to  savages;  its  recognition  is  more 
or  less  universal.  Civilization,  and  even  the  gentle 
influences  of  religion,  cannot  wholly  eradicate  it. 
We  witness  its  existence  every  day  in  our  courts  of 
justice,  and  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  human  life. 

In  the  ancient  government  of  the  Indian  tribes 
the  chief  was  a  despot,  armed  with  the  powers  of  a 
czar.  He  held  in  his  hand  while  in  power  the  prop- 
erty, and  even  the  life,  of  each  individual  of  his 
tribe.  He  might  take  the  life  of  his  dog,  his  horse, 
or  of  his  wife,  unchallenged,  since  they  were  his  own 
property,  but  should  he  do  this  with  the  "belong- 
ings" of  another,  he  was  forced  to  pay  a  fine  in  pelts 
or  ponies.  If  in  his  anger  he  killed  a  man,  there 
was  no  law  so  far  as  the  tribe  was  concerned,  but 
the  penalty  of  death  hung  over  him  like  a  cloud, 
and  any  one  of  the  relatives  of  his  victim  would  be 
justified  in  demanding  a  duel,  or  even  in  waylaying 
and  killing  him  as  one  would  a  beast. 

These  avengers  of  blood,  when  once  started,  might 
continue  perpetuating  the  blood  feud  until  the  tribe 
would  become  crippled  through  this  system  of  re- 
venge.    So  when  in  battle  one  tribe  had  killed  mem- 

70 


bers  of  another,  the  deadly  hostility  was  nurtured 
for  generations  before  the  hatchet  would  be  buried. 
In  1879  the  Sioux,  who  had  been  for  generations 
the  natural  enemies  of  the  Chippewas,  buried  the 
hatchet  with  elaborate  ceremonies  at  Devil's  Lake, 
in  Dakota,  whither  prominent  men  of  each  tribe  had 
assembled  for  that  purpose. 

It  was  in  this  same  year  that  my  duties  took  me  to 
White  Earth  Reservation,  occupied  by  the  Mississippi 
bands  of  the  Ojibway  Indians.     As  I  approached  the 
agency  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  lonely  grave, 
over  which  banners  were  waving,  and  upon  making 
inquiries  as  to  this,  to  me,  unusual  sight,  I  was  in- 
formed that  it  was    the    grave    of    the    great    chief 
"Hole-in-the-Day,"  the  famous  warrior  of  the  Chip- 
pewas, who,  although  he  had  fought  in  many  bloody 
encounters  with  the  enemies  of  his  people,  had  at 
last  been  laid  low  by  the  knife  of  one  of  his  own 
tribe.     The  banners    were    waving    over    his    grave, 
grim  tokens  that  his  murderer  still  lived,  and  that 
the  deed  was  unavenged. 

It  appears  that  "Hole-in-the-Day,"  although  the 
head  ciiief,  and  a  man  distinguished  for  his  courage 
as  a  soldier  and  his  wisdom  as  a  counselor,  had  dis- 
carded his  native  Indian  wife  and  had  allied  him- 
self with  a  white  woman.  This  act  gave  otfence  to 
some  of  the  Indians,  who  hated  the  palefaces,  and 
his  tragic  end  was  the  result. 

At  the  present  time  this  law  of  retaliation  is  no 
longer  countenanced  by  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment.    Unruly  and  arbitrary  chiefs  are  deposed. 


71 


HYGIENE  AMONG  THE 
ABORIGINES. 


In  considering  the  manners  and  customs  of  our 
Indians,  we  must  rememl)er  that  while  the  term  In- 
dian conveys  to  our  mind  a  certain  idea  as  to  gen- 
eral characteristics,  Indian  tribes  differ  from  each 
other  in  appearance,  manners  and  customs  as 
widely  as  the  tribes  of  "pale-faces"  differ  from 
each  other.  Writers,  in  describing  our  aborigines, 
have  often  made  this  mistake,  detailing  the  customs 
of  one  tribe  as  if  they  were  descriptive  of  all  Indian 
tribes.  We  can  readily  understand  how  so  many 
mistakes  are  made  in  this  manner.  This  is  well  il- 
lustrated when  we  consider  the  subject  of  the  dis- 
posal of  the  dead.  One  tribe  may  dispose  of  them 
by  fire  on  a  funeral  pile ;  another  by  preparing  them 
to  become  mummies,  then  by  burial  in  caves  in  sit- 
ting postures:  still  others  elevate  their  dead  on  plat- 
forms or  in  trees,  and  perhaps  the  more  civilized 
encoffin  them  in  birch-bark  and  bury  in  the  earth. 
Many  characteristics  of  Indians  are  found  in 
all  of  the  tribes,  while  some  particular  features  are 
found  only  in  certain  tribes. 

The  custom  of  building  large  fires  in  the  vicinity 
of  newly-made  graves  may  suggest  the  idea  of  the 
hygienic  value  of  fire.  How  much  it  acts  as  a  pow- 
erful disinfectant  in  preventing  the  spread  of  con- 

72 


tagioiis  disease  we  are  not  prepared  to  state,  but 
that  it  has  some  such  value  there  can  be  no  doubt. 

In  making  a  study  of  hygiene  among  the  abor- 
igines we  shall  find  much  that  is  interesting.  We 
shall  be  able  to  discover  the  customs  which  very 
likely  have  existed  among  all  primitive  peoples. 
Our  native  aborigines  are  undoubtedly  superior  to 
any  others  in  existence  to-day.  Mentally  and  physic- 
ally, and  we  may  add  morally,  too,  they  are  superior 
to  the  natives  of  Central  America,  South  America, 
Africa,  the  Islands  of  the  Pacific,  and  of  Asia.  To 
begin  with,  we  find  the  North  American  Indian  an 
intelligent,  religious,  brave  and  friendly  being,  pos- 
sessing strong  parental  affection,  generosity  and 
courage  of  a  high  order.  With  such  attributes  it 
is  not  surprising  that  we  find  in  him  sufficient  know- 
ledge to  provide  for  himself  suitable  food,  clothing 
and  shelter.  We  could  also  demonstrate  that  his 
knowledge  of  the  treatment  of  disease  is  of  sufficient 
worth  to  attract  attention.  We  find  that  writers 
who  have  witnessed  the  ceremonies  of  the  magicians 
imagine  them  to  be  the  true  medicine  men  or  doc- 
tors of  the  tribe,  thereby  totally  losing  sight  of  the 
fact  that  medical  and  surgical  art  among  our  aborig- 
ines contain  scientific  truths  which  demand  recogni- 
tion. We  must  remember  that  the  Indian  is  very 
observing  and  quick  to  make  use  of  any  facts  which 
he  may  consider  of  value. 

The  ordinary  home  of  most  of  the  Plains  Indians 
is  called  by  them  a  te-pee.  It  is  a  conical  tent,  made 
of  dressed  buffalo  skins,  or  of  late  years,  of  cotton 
cloth,  supported  on  a  framework  of  light  peeled 
poles,  spread  out  at  the  bottom  in  a  circle,  and 
crossed  near  the  top.     It  is  from  twelve  to  eighteen 


73 


feet  in  diameter,  and  from  eight  to  ten  feet  high. 
The  covering,  of  whatever  material,  is  cut  into  the 
form  of  a  cone,  and  sewed  tightly,  except  one 
straight  seam  from  top  to  bottom,  which  is  fastened 
by  a  lacing  from  the  top  to  within  four  or  five  feet 
from  the  ground.  The  opening  thus  left  is  the  door- 
way, the  door  itself  being  a  buffalo  robe  or  piece 
of  cloth  fastened  above  and  left  to  hang  loose,  ex- 
cept in  bad  weather,  when  it  can  be  tightly  stretched 
by  thongs  attached  to  the  lower  corners.  All  well- 
constructed  te-pees  have  an  arrangement  to  prevent 
the  wind  blowing  down  through  the  opening  in  the 
top.  These  te-pees  were  often  ornamented  with 
paintings  representing  the  history  of  the  head  of 
the  lodges,  or  with  representations  of  various  kinds, 
supposed  to  be  efficacious  in  keeping  away  evil  spir- 
its. ' '  *  These  te-pees  are  easily  taken  down  and  can 
be  quickly  placed  in  position  by  those  who  are  ac- 
customed to  them.  The  fire  is  built  in  the  centre ; 
the  smoke  is  supposed  to  escape  through  an  aperture 
in  the  top.  The  te-pee  is  admirably  adapted  to  the 
wants  and  necessities  of  the  Indians,  its  shape  se- 
cures it  from  being  overturned  by  winds  and  storms, 
and  it  can  be  kept  warm  and  comfortable  even  in 
the  coldest  weather  by  very  little  fuel,  a  most  im- 
portant desideratum  on  the  treeless  plains.  The 
other  kind  of  lodge  is  called  a  wicky-up,  temporary 
hut  constructed  of  small  freshly  cut  poles  or  wands, 
large  ends  stuck  in  the  ground,  small  ends  bent  over 
and  fastened  together.  These  he  covers  with  skins, 
or  blankets,  or  cloth;  the  interior  is  only  three  or 
four  feet  high.     The  te-pee  is  the  permanent  resi- 

*Colonel  Dodge  in  "Our  Wild  Indians." 
74 


dence  of  the  Indian,  and  the  wicky-np  the  make- 
shift sleeping-place  on  hunts  and  marches.  No  mat- 
ter how  tired  after  the  day's  march,  the  Indian  will 
not  sleep  in  the  open  air  if  he  can  possibly  avoid  it; 
he  must  be  protected  from  above.  Whether  this  is 
a  superstition  or  a  habit  derived  from  long  exper- 
ience, it  is  difficult  to  state.  When  asked  about  it 
they  reply  that  it  is  not  good  to  sleep  out.  The  In- 
dians use  pillows  when  at  home  in  their  te-pees, 
made  of  rolled  buffalo  robe  or  of  the  skins  of  smaller 
animals,  such  as  the  fox  or  badger,  stuffed  with 
grass.  Their  beds  are  piles  of  buffalo  robes  or 
blankets  spread  upon  the  ground  as  close  as  possi- 
ble to  the  outer  circumference  of  the  te-pee.  These 
beds  serve  the  double  purpose  of  sleeping-places  by 
night  and  seats  and  lounges  by  day.  They  are  not 
"made  up,"  though  on  fine  days  the  bedding  may 
be  taken  out,  shaken  and  spread  in  the  sun. 

The  Chippewa  wigwam  is  built  of  birch-bark,  se- 
cured to  strong  wooden  frames,  about  eight  feet  in 
height  and  twenty  to  thirty  feet  or  more  in  circum- 
ference. Platforms  for  sleeping-mats  two  or  three 
feet  high  circle  the  wigwam,  a  bare  place  in  the 
centre  being  left  for  the  ever-burning  fire,  an  aper- 
ture in  the  top  permits  the  escape  of  smoke  and 
secures  good  ventilation.  The  reed  mats  used  for 
carpets  are  beautiful  specimens  of  Indian  work. 
These  wigwams  are  considered  very  comfortable 
even  in  the  coldest  winter  nights,  when  the  temper- 
ature is  many  degrees  below  zero.  The  government 
has  furnished  the  Indian  with  windows  and  doors 
for  his  log-cabin,  and  while  with  some  Indians  these 
homes  are  considered  desirable,  they  are  certainly 
not  as  healthy  as  the  te-pee  or  wigwam.     These  te- 


75 


pees  of  the  Indians  are  continually  being  moved 
about.  The  squaws  attend  to  the  loading  and  un- 
loading of  camp  equipage  and  supplies.  Camps  are 
arranged  with  some  degree  of  order,  the  "Council 
Lodge"  and  te-pees  of  the  chiefs  and  principal  men 
being  pitched  in  the  centre,  enclosing  a  space  great- 
er or  less  according  to  the  number  of  the  lodges. 
To  the  rear  of  each  chief's  te-pee  were  the  lodges 
of  his  followers.  The  inner  circle  was  the  public 
space,  from  which  were  made  by  criers  all  an- 
nouncements of  orders  and  discourses  of  chiefs  and 
council,  notice  of  movements,  and,  indeed,  every- 
thing of  public  interest.  This  was  the  loafing  and 
lounging  place  for  all,  as  well  as  for  ceremonial 
dances,  etc.  The  Indian  is  naturally  hospitable,  and 
will  share  whatever  he  has  to  eat  with  friends  or 
visitors.  There  are  no  regular  hours  for  meals,  nor 
is  there,  as  a  rule,  more  than  one  meal  a  day.  A 
pot  or  kettle  of  meat  is  put  on  the  fire;  when  suf- 
ficiently boiled  it  is  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  floor, 
and  the  inmates  of  the  te-pee  crowding  round,  help 
themselves  with  knives  or  fingers.  Some  few  of  the 
more  advanced  now  use  tin  or  delf  plates.  Until 
within  a  few  years,  dried  buffalo  meat  was  used 
almost  universally  in  lieu  of  bread,  but  the  issue 
of  flour,  meal  and  baking  powder  by  the  Indian 
Department,  have  civilized  them  so  far  that  bread 
is  almost  an  absolute  necessity.  Many  of  the  squaws 
have  learned  to  make  quite  good  biscuit.  "The  In- 
dians hold  the  maize,  or  Indian  corn,  in  great  ven- 
eration. They  esteem  it  so  important  and  divine 
a  grain  that  their  story-tellers  invented  various 
tales,  in  which  this  idea  is  symbolized  under  the 
form  of  a  special  gift  from  the    Great    Spirit.     A 


76 


good  Indian  house-wife  provides  a  goodly  store  of 
corn  to  exercise  hospitality  and  duly  honor  her  hus- 
band 's  guests. ' ' — Sch  oolcraft. 

The  contact  with  the  pale-face  has  brought  about 
changes  in  clothing.  The  Indian  retains  his  well- 
fitting  moccasins,  but  the  handsomely-beaded  leg- 
gings and  the  breech  clout  have  been  discarded,  and 
in  place  of  them  we  find  them  wearing  drawers  and 
trousers  of  modern  materials  and  fashion.  The 
broad  belt  has  been  discarded  and  suspenders  are 
now  worn,  and  instead  of  the  costly  hunting-shirt, 
the  "boiled  shirt"  of  civilization  and  the  white 
man's  vest  are  now  universally  worn.  The  blanket, 
which  Indian  pride  carried  with  the  dignity  of  the 
ancient  Roman  who  once  wore  the  toga,  has  given 
place  to  the  conventional  overcoat.  The  otter-skin 
head-gear  has  been  replaced  by  the  ugly  Western 
hat,  and  in  some  cases  the  treasured  moccasins  have 
been  sold  or  cast  aside  to  encase  the  healthy,  active 
feet  of  Indian  braves  in  cowhide  boots.  The  pic- 
turesque attire  has  so  rapidly  disappeared  even  from 
the  Reservation  Indians  that  we  can  only  find  some 
traces  of  native  toggery  by  visiting  a  "Wild  West 
Show." 

One  great  stumbling-block  towards  success  in  pro- 
tecting the  physical  condition  of  the  Indian  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  from  an  out-of-door  life  of 
activity,  with  plenty  of  fresh  game  and  wholesome 
food  and  clear  water,  and  with  a  healthful  te-pee  for 
his  home,  he  has  been  placed  in  log-cabins,  over- 
heated with  iron  stoves,  given  the  poorest  quality  of 
flour  and  salted  meat,  and,  in  exchange  for  an  ac- 
tive life,  one  of  idleness.  Under  these  circumstances 
is  it  at  all  remarkable  that  mentally  and  physically, 


77 


in  some  instances,  he  has  degenerated.  For  the  In- 
dian, as  well  as  for  anyone  else,  idleness  can  act 
only  as  a  serious  injury. 

Armed,  clothed,  housed  and  fed  like  our  wild  and 
erratic  frontiersman  the  Indian  has  lost  much  of 
the  old-time  life  and  manner  which  made  him  a 
native  American  freeman  in  the  literal  sense  of  that 
term.  In  his  native  Indian  life  he  was,  indeed,  a 
subject  worthy  of  the  artist's  picturing,  the  poet's 
description,  the  philanthropist's  interest  and  the 
brave  man's  respect.  As  he  is  now  he  cannot  fail 
to  inspire  in  every  manly  heart  feelings  of  sincere 
sympathy  and  genuine  regret  at  his  miserable  mis- 
fortune. If  we  can  atone  for  the  evil  we  have 
wrought  we  shall  derive  benefit  from  the  sense  of 
a  duty  undertaken  even  at  this  late  day. 

Boiled  meat  used  to  be  the  favorite  food  of  the 
Indians  of  the  plains.  The  Chippewas  have  veni- 
son, prairie  chickens  and  maize,  and  understand  the 
value  of  broiling  meats,  but  boiling  is  less  trouble 
for  the  squaw  cooks,  and  so  the  Indian  dietary  is 
arranged  accordingly.  Col.  Dodge  declares  that  the 
Indian  is  a  great  epicure,  knowing  the  choicest  tit- 
bits of  every  animal  and  just  how  to  cook  it  to  suit 
his  taste.  The  great  fall  hunts  used  to  yield  him 
the  fullest  enjoyment  of  his  appetite.  Then  were 
the  days  spent  in  all  the  delights  and  excitement  of 
the  chase  and  almost  all  his  nights  in  feasting  and 
revelry.  These  were  the  times  for  "marrow  gats," 
"hump  ribs"  and  "marrow-bones."  The  large 
bones  of  the  hind-legs  of  the  buffalo  were  thrown 
upon  the  glowing  coals  or  hidden  under  hot  em- 
bers, then  cracked  between  two  stones,  and  the  rich, 
delicious  marrow  sucked  in   quantities  sufficient  to 


78 


ruin  a  white  man's  stomach  forever.  Marrow-fat 
is  believed  by  the  Indians  to  be  especially  good  for 
the  hair,  and  during  the  feast  the  greasy  hands  are 
constantly  wiped  upon  his  head.  The  Indian  is  an 
enormous  feeder,  and  well-nigh  incredible  stories 
are  related  of  the  amount  of  meat  one  can  eat  at  a 
single  meal. 

The  Indians  understand  the  value  of  salt  and  use 
is  freely,  and  are  also  fond  of  red  and  black  pepper 
and  of  tea  and  coffee.     Among  Indian  hunters  the 
entrails    are  considered  of    especial  value;    bowels, 
stomach,  liver  and  heart  and  lungs  are  all  extreme- 
ly desirable,  even  when  raw.     Dog-flesh  was  popular 
among  all  the  Indian  tribes.     It  was  served  cut  up  in 
large   junks,    with   skin   and   hair   and   entrails   all 
boiled  in  one  huge  pot.     The  Comanches  were  fond 
of  horse-flesh.     The  turkey  is  not  considered  a  de- 
sirable dish  lest  eating  it  should  make  the  warrior 
cowardly.     Some  of  our  Indian  tribes  ate  the  hearts 
of  their  brave  enemies  when  they  killed  them  in  the 
battle   struggle.     This   is   considered   good   medicine 
and  is  supposed  to  create  additional  courage  in  the 
partakers.     An  officer  at  Fort  Bowie,  Arizona,  wa^ 
killed  while  attempting  to  reach  the  fort.     The  In- 
dians who  overtook  and  captured  him  cut  out  his 
heart  and  ate  it  in  the  presence  of  the  horrified  gar- 
rison,  who   were   powerless   to   prevent   the   terrible 
orgie.     At  war  dances  I  have   often  witnessed  the 
act  in  pantomime  of  killing  and  scalping  an  enemy 
and  cutting  out  his  heart  and  eating  it  raw.     Even 
the  gurgling  noise  of  sucking  up  the  blood  was  en- 
acted with  terrible  distinctness. 


79 


MARRIAGE  AMONG  INDIANS. 


A  writer  on  our  North  American  Indians  has 
stated  that  marriage,  the  bulwark  of  our  civi- 
lized community,  is  lightly  esteemed  among  savages, 
and  that  in  some  of  the  tribes  communism  as  to  sex- 
ual relation  jirevails,  and  that  virtue  and  chastity 
are  of  little  worth. 

The  writer  does  not  state  to  which  tribes  these 
remarks  apply.  Evidently  his  information  has  been 
derived  very  largely  from  hearsay  concerning  de- 
cayed and  disappearing  tribes. 

In  a  paper  concerning  North  American  Indian 
womanhood,  published  in  the  "Annals  of  Gynecol- 
ogy," I  quoted  from  others,  but  I  have  done  so  only 
after  years  of  patient,  personal  investigation,  with  an 
experience  dating  back  years  among  many  different 
Indian  tribes.  I  must  take  strong  exception  to  any 
statement  which  reflects  on  the  general  character  of 
our  American  Indians.  As  one  writer  has  stated  it: 
"They  are  even  more  virtuous  and  more  strict  in 
regard  to  the  marriage  tie  than  with  the  whites. 
Their  women  are  compelled  by  custom  and  sentiment 
to  be  virtuous.  It  is  positively  erroneous  to  state 
that  'the  sexual  appetite  in  Indians  is  always  the 
uncontrolled  and  uncontrollable  desire  of  the  wild 
beast." 

I   refer,   of   course,   in   my   writings,   to   the    full 

80 


blooded  North  American  Indians.  Statistics  with 
regard  to  half-breeds  are  valueless.  I  have  discov- 
ered another  statement  to  which  I  am  also  obliged 
to  take  exception,  and  it  is  that  "both  local  and 
constitutional  forms  of  venereal  disease  abound 
among  Indian  women.  The  frequency  of  syphilis 
coupled  with  disease  are  almost  synonymous  terms." 
I  recognize  the  fact  that  this  is  the  popular  notion. 
To  judge  the  merits  of  statistics,  personal  experience 
is  necessary,  and  it  is  not  right  to  paint  our  aborig- 
ines in  such  hideous  colors. 

The  great  mortality  among  infants,  and  the  prev- 
alence of  glandular  and  pulmonary  disease  among 
many  of  those  who  survive  infancy,  are  sometimes 
used  as  evidence  that  it  is  venereal  disease  which 
has  made  such  terrible  inroads  on  the  Indian  con- 
stitution. Any  one  who  has  resided  a  considerable 
length  of  time  among  the  genuine  North  American 
Indian  tribes  will  be  sure  to  recognize  the  unrea- 
sonableness of  this  statement.  During  a  long  resi- 
dence at  one  reservation,  only  one  case  of  venereal 
disease  presented  itself  for  treatment,  and  that  was 
in  a  half-breed  who  had  lately  returned  from  a 
v/hite  settlement! 

Our  ideas  depend  upon  the  tribe  from  which  we 
get  our  statistics.  The  genuine  North  American 
Indians  are  not  the  degraded  people  of  New  Mexico, 
Arizona,  and  Southern  California,  but  will  be  found 
to  be  human  beings  possessed  of  the  manliest  at- 
tributes, believers  in  the  Divine  Being,  whom  they 
know  and  worship  as  the  Great  Spirit. 

They  are  fearless,  vigorous,  manly.  The  Indian's 
ideas  of  right  and  wrong  are  of  such  a  character  as 
to  rouse  our  respect  and  surprise.     To  live  among 

81 


them  is  certain  to  develop  mutual  regard ;  and,  in 
my  high  opinion  of  their  general  worth,  I  have  but 
echoed  the  sentiments  of  the  manliest  and  truest 
people  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  meet. 


82 


BABY  DAYS  IN  THE  WIGWAM. 


Longfellow,  in  his  song  of  Hiawatha,  tells  how  the 
wrinkled  old  Nakomis, 

"Nursed  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Rocked  him  in  his  linden  cradle, 
Bedded  soft  in  moss  and  rushes, 
Safely  bound  in  reindeer  sinews." 
But  unfortunately  the  poet  extends  his  description 
of  the  cradle  no  further.     Catlin,  in  his  admirable 
"History   of   the   North   American    Indians,"   gives 
several  illustrations   of  the  papoose-holders  or  cra- 
dles.    The  papoose-holder  is  evidently  a  creation  of 
necessity.     The     Indian    is   a   warrior,     hunter,     pr 
statesman,  or,  in  these  times,  a  farmer.     If  not  oc- 
cupied in  any  one  of  these  callings,  he  is  a  loafer. 
But,  whatever  the  business  of  her  lord  and  master 
may  be,  the  squaw  is  too  busy  to  be  able  to  de- 
vote much  time  to  her  children. 

I  would  not  have  it  understood  by  this  that  ma- 
ternal indifference  is  an  Indian  trait,  for  such  is 
not  the  fact.  Indians  love  their  children  fondly, 
constantly,  and  will  make  any  reasonable  sacrifice 
for  them.  Indeed,  their  fondness  for  children  is 
so  great  that  even  those  of  their  enemies,  if  cap- 
tured, are  kindly  cared  for. 

You  can  almost  always  reach  an  Indian's  heart 
by  little  acts  of  kindness  to  his  children.  The  In- 
dian mother  never  leaves  her  infant  in  the  care  of 


hirelings  or  strangers,  but  carries  it  with  her  every- 
where. She  will  lay  it,  or  stand  it  against  the  side 
of  the  wigwam,  or  hang  it  on  a  nail  in  her  cabin,  or 
upon  a  tree  near  where  she  is  at  work.  The  pa- 
poose-holder, or  cradle,  is  a  work  of  art,  and  decid- 
edly a  creation  of  the  affection.  These  cradles  are 
of  ten-times  beautifully  made  and  decorated  with  the 
most  expensive  bead-work,  and  ornamented  with 
furs,  feathers,  ribbons,  etc.  A  piece  of  buffalo  hide 
is  fastened  securely  to  a  board,  the  hairy  side  up. 
The  infant  is  placed  upon  this,  and  the  loose  sides 
are  brought  together  securely  in  front  of  the  body 
and  laced;  the  face  is  left  exposed.  The  lacing 
strings  are  sufficiently  tightened  to  keep  the  body 
perfectly  straight.  The  broad  bands  which  pass 
around  the  cradle  to  increase  its  steadiness  are  often 
beautifully  embroidered  with  porcupine  quills.  And 
the  dried  buffalo  hide  is  ornamented  with  all  sorts 
of  pictures  in  gaudy  colors.  '*A  broad  loop  of 
elastic  wool  passes  round  in  front  of  the  child's 
face  to  protect  it  in  case  of  a  fall,  from  the  front 
of  which  is  suspended  a  little  toy  of  exquisite  em- 
broidery for  the  child  to  handle  and  amuse  himself 
with."  When  traveling,  the  arms  of  the  child  are 
fastened  by  the  bandages,  so  that  in  case  of  a  fall 
they  would  not  be  broken,  but  at  other  times  they 
are  allowed  to  be  free,  so  that  the  child  can  amuse 
itself. 

At  first  thought  the  idea  of  carrying  them  in  this 
way  may  seem  to  be  cruel,  but  it  is  not  so  regarded 
by  the  Indians,  and  this  is  the  universal  custom 
among  all  tribes.  I  have  never  known  an  instance 
where  any  harm  has  resulted  therefrom.  A  broad 
strap,  attached  to  the  upper  portion  of  the  cradle. 


84 


passes  either  to  the  forehead  or  to  the  chest  and 
shoulders  of  the  mother,  and  in  this  manner  the  in- 
fant is  carried  until  it  has  reached  the  age  of  eight 
or  ten  months,  when  it  takes  its  journeys  on  its 
mother's  back,  held  in  the  folds  of  robe  or  blanket. 
Colonel  Dodge  relates  that  the  Indian  mother  car- 
ries her  child  so  securely  that  she  can  play  a  vig- 
orous game  of  ball  with  her  baby  on  her  back.  Once 
or  twice  a  day  the  little  prisoner  is  released  for 
change  of  clothing  or  a  bath,  or  for  a  romp  on  the 
floor  of  the  te-pee  with  its  brothers  and  sisters. 

Indian  child  life  is  not  so  unhappy  as  it  has  been 
represented;  children  are  highly  prized,  and  the 
Indian  mother  who  has  the  most  enjoys  honor  and 
distinction  therefore.  With  the  Indian,  as  with  the 
ancient  Israelite,  the  belief  exists  that  "Blessed  is 
the  man  who  has  his  quiver  full  of  them."  The 
children  of  "civilized"  Indians  are,  as  a  general  rule, 
not  so  tenderly  cared  for  as  in  the  olden  days;  and 
modern  methods,  as  taught  to  the  Indian  by  the 
inferior  class  of  white  people  with  whom  they  are 
most  likely  to  come  in  contact,  do  not  tend  to  im- 
prove the  hygienic  conditions.  The  government  pol- 
icy does  not  accomplish  what  ought  to  be  done  for 
these  aborigines.  There  is  no  doubt  about  it  that 
much  of  the  instruction  afforded  would  have  been 
better  withheld.  The  death  rate  among  Indian  chil- 
dren is,  therefore,  greater  than  it  should  be. 

It  is  well-nigh  useless  to  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  our  whole  Indian  policy,  although  very  much 
improved  of  late  years,  has  been  one  of  neglect. 
Nowhere  on  the  face  of  the  earth  can  we  find 
aborigines  to  be  compared  with  those  of  the  North 
American    continent.     Those    who    know    them    best 


85 


agree  that  they  are  certainly  worthy  of  a  better  fate. 
To  know  how  much  could  be  done  for  these  "chil- 
dren," and  to  witness  how  comparatively  little  is 
being  done  by  a  nation  blessed  with  such  great 
wealth  as  is  ours,  is  simply  deplorable. 

The  labors  of  Catholic  and  other  missionaries  and 
of  that  unselfish  society  of  noble  women,  who  voice 
their  necessities  in  the  little  paper  called  the  Indian's 
Friend,  ought  to  be  able  to  make  some  impression  on 
this  nation.  The  Indians  are  so  rapidly  paissing 
away,  that  the  opportunities  for  making  amends  for 
the  wrong  done  them  will  not  last  long. 


8t> 


CONCERNING   AMERICAN    INDIAN 
WOMANHOOD.— AN  ETHNO- 
LOGICAL STUDY. 


Dr.  Henry  T.  Byford,  in  a  paper  read  before  the 
Chicago  Gynaecological  Society,  February  20,  1885, 
quotes  Professor  Gross  as  asking,  "Why  did  not  the 
Almighty  create,  simultaneously  with  woman,  a  com- 
petent gynaecologist  to  meet  the  inevitable  evils?" 
Dr.  Byford  adds  that  "it  seems  indeed  like  a  re- 
proach upon  Him,  the  crowning  work  of  whose  in- 
telligence was  the  creation  of  woman,  that  she  should 
be  the  most  poorly  prepared  of  all  beings  for  the 
reproduction  of  her  kind.     Was  it  always  thus,  or 
was    child-bearing    originally   a  physiological    phe- 
nomenon not  beyond  the  power  of  a  healthy  woman 
to   patiently    endure?"     It   is   the   purpose   of   this 
paper  to  show  that  among  the  North  American  abo- 
rigines, childbirth  has  been  a  peculiarly  easy  func- 
tion,   seldom    attended   with    inconvenience    of    ainy 
very  great  moment  or  of  danger  to  health  and  life. 
Where  we  find  Indian  tribes  only  recently  confined 
upon   reservations,   and   where   the   wild  or  blanket 
Indians  are  in  the  majority,  there  we  can,  without 
doubt,  most  readily  ascertain  the  habits  of  the  abo- 
rigine's.    The  past  thirty  years  have  brought  about 
very  remarkable  changes  in  the  lives  of  our  Ameri- 
can Indians,  and  as  matters  stand  at  present  we  can 


87 


hope  for  only  a  very  little  more  time  remaining  for 
investigation  in  this  interesting  study. 

Ethnology  is  defined  by  Webster  as  "the  science 
which  treats  of  the  division  of  man  into  races,  its 
origin  and  relations,  and  differences  which  charac- 
terize them."  I  think  we  may  therefore  consider 
these  investigations  concerning  Indian  womanhood 
an  ethnological  study  more  than  an  anthropological 
research.  We  cannot  fail  even  in  this  superficial 
paper  to  observe  how  closely  related  is  the  human 
race.  An  experience  covering  years  of  service 
on  the  frontier  has  convinced  me  that  while  the 
tribes  of  North  American  Indians  differ  as  widely 
from  one  another  as  the  tribes  and  nations  of  pale- 
faces are  distinct  from  each  other,  yet  there  is  a 
wonderful  similarity  observable  in  all.  This  is  es- 
pecially noticeable  when  we  come  to  investigate  the 
condition  of  infancy,  childhood  and  maternity.  In 
such  a  research  we  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  with 
a  decided  respect  for  our  native  Americans. 

Nowhere  on  the  face  of  the  earth  can  we  find  abo- 
rigines to  be  compared  with  those  of  the  North 
American  continent.  Much,  indeed,  of  their  history 
and  tradition  has  passed  away,  and  when  we  seek 
for  records  of  the  nations  who  occupied  this  great 
continent,  comparatively  little  is  to  be  found.  There 
is,  however,  some  material  within  reach  to-day,  but 
in  a  very  few  years  almost  every  remaining  vestige 
will  have  disappeared  forever.  That  oblivion  should 
be  the  destiny  of  such  remarkable  nations  is  a  mis- 
fortune. We  have  a  right  to  be  proud  of  our  abo- 
rigines. Those  who  know  most  of  our  native  Amer- 
ican or  so-called  Indians  respect  them  most.  Those 
who  have  lived  longest  with  them  like  them  the  best. 


My  experience  has  brought  me  in  contact  with  many- 
different  Indian  nations,  both  in  peace  and  war. 
Among  these  the  Ojibways  are  the  most  interesting 
for  investigation.  Dr.  Hoffman,  lately  an  Acting 
Assistant  Surgeon  in  the  United  States  Army,  in  a 
recent  article  in  the  University  Magazine  concern- 
ing Shaministick  practices,  states  that  "the  area  of 
country  formerly  occupied  by  the  immense  tribes 
consisting  of  the  Algonquin  linguistic  stock,  extends 
from  Nova  Scotia  southward  to  the  James  River,  and 
westward  to  Montana.  To  these  divisions  belong 
the  tribes  first  met  with  by  the  French  traders  in 
Canada  as  early  as  1634,  by  the  Puritans  in  Massa- 
chusetts, and  by  Captain  John  Smith's  band  of  col- 
onists in  Virginia.  They  are  believed  to  be  consid- 
erably in  advance  of  the  tribes  of  other  divisions; 
and  one  of  the  most  interesting  bodies  from  an  eth- 
nological point  of  view  is  the  Chippewa  or  0  jib  way 
tribe  of  the  Lake  Superior  region." 

A  prominent  and  highly  educated  Indian,  who 
probably  knows  as  much  concerning  the  practices 
and  customs  existing  among  Ojibways  as  any  man 
living,  and  whom  I  have  known  very  well  while 
serving  at  White  Earth  reservation,  writes  me  as 
follows:  "Indian  girls  usually  begin  to  menstru- 
ate from  14  to  16  years  of  age.  The  mother  care- 
fully watches  her  daughter  as  the  age  of  puberty 
develops,  and  makes  frequent  inquiries  as  to  any 
peculiar  symptoms  appearing,  and  advises  her  to 
keep  good  watch  upon  herself  and  to  note  the  ap- 
pearance of  anything  unusual.  She  is  directed  when 
the  hour  arrives  of  the  function  of  menstruation, 
whether  it  be  in  the  stormy  hour  of  the  day  or  in 
the  coldest  midnight,  to  immediately  leave  her  home 

89 


and  the  village,  and  retire  to  a  little  wigwam,  which 
has  been  prepared  for  her  in  some  lonely,  unfre- 
quented place  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more 
away  from  her  home.  This  temporary  shelter  has 
been  built  as  comfortably  as  possible,  as  here  she  is 
expected  to  spend  many  days  and  nights  alone.  Here 
she  is  not  allowed  to  receive  cooked  food  from  the 
family.  She  has  been  provided  with  a  small  tea- 
kettle, spoon  and  tin  dish  for  her  own  use.  Under 
no  consideration  must  she  pass  over  any  public  high- 
way. She  is  strictly  forbidden  to  speak  to  any  men 
or  boys.  During  the  period  of  menstriTation  she  is 
considered  unclean.  During  this  lonely  period  of 
hours  and  days  of  isolation  she  is  encouraged  to  fast 
for  full  five  days.  Many  eat  nothing,  and  drink 
only  cold  water.  It  is  considered  among  these  peo- 
ple that  the  longer  they  abstain  from  food,  the  bet- 
ter, and  during  this  period  of  fasting  the  more  im- 
portant dreams  of  their  sleeping  moments  are  to  be 
remembered  and,  if  possible,  recorded." 

Concerning  the  care  of  the  pregnant  woman  he 
writes:  "During  this  period  she  is  required  to  take 
more  out-of-door  exercise.  Her  work  is  by  no  means 
diminished.  She  must  cut  wood,  make  rice,  make 
sugar  and  carry  wood  on  her  back.  My  wife,  when 
her  first  delivery  took  place,  was  tapping  sugar  trees 
all  day.  After  going  to  bed  a  daughter  was  born 
at  2  o'clock  in  the  morning.  At  10  o'clock  the  same 
day  she  went  out  tapping  trees  again  with  her  little 
babe  on  her  back.  Chief  Manadowabe's  wife,  Re- 
becca by  name,  had  been  gathering  rice  away  from 
home.  She  was  then  heavy  with  pregnancy.  Start- 
ing on  the  way  toward  the  village,  returning  with 
a  sack  of  wild  rice  on  her  back,  when  about  a  half 

90 


a  mile  from  home,  she  felt  the  symptoms  of  delivery. 
Putting  down  the  load  near  the  road,  she  went  a 
little  farther  away  among  the  bushes.  Here,  unat- 
tended, the  mother  gave  birth  to  her  child.  She 
wrapped  the  new-born  babe  in  her  blanket,  returned 
to  her  load,  and,  placing  it  on  her  back,  started  again 
for  home.  I  and  my  wife  were  building  a  very  large 
wigwam  when  Rebecca  reached  us.  We  saw  her 
coming  with  a  load-sack  of  rice  and  something  under 
her  arm.  My  wife  went  and  met  her  and  took  the 
new-born  babe,  and  all  that  day  Rebecca  was  on  her 
feet  to  help  us  finish  the  wigwam.  I  called  Dr. 
Breck  to  come  and  see  the  new-born  babe.  'Just 
born  two  hours  ago,'  I  said.  'Rebecca  was  all  alone, 
alone  by  herself,'  said  I.  'You  don't  say  so!'  says 
he.  'Yes,  alone.'  'Wonderful!'  he  said.  'Rebecca 
did  not  stay  long  in  bed — one  or  two  weeks,  like  the 
pale-face  woman.'  " 

The  same  writer  informs  me  that  before  the  de- 
livery the  woman  is  given  some  medicine  to  insure 
safe  delivery. 

The  husband  is  seldom,  if  ever,  present  unless  in 
an  emergency  where  no  woman  can  be  found  to  as- 
sist. Diseases  peculiar  to  women  are  not  common 
among  Indian  women,  but  there  are  many  native 
medicines  which  are  highly  prized  for  the  relief  of 
such  troubles.  Usually  these  remedies  are  admin- 
istered through  the  friendly  advice  of  some  exper- 
ienced women.  Not  infrequently  in  more  difficult 
cases  aid  is  sought  from  the  medicine  man.  There 
are,  however,  in  every  tribe  some  women  of  reputa- 
tion as  "treaters,"  who  undertake  the  treatment  of 
cases  such  as  falling  of  the  womb.  In  Indian  women 
from  30  to  40  years  of  age  these  displacements  some- 

91 


times  are  found.  The  clothes  worn  by  women  dur- 
ing menstruation,  or  when  suffering  from  disease  of 
genital  organs,  are  burned.  The  Indian  mother  very 
frequently  wears  a  broad  band  around  the  waist  be- 
fore the  child  is  born,  and  also  a  belt  known  as  the 
"squaw  belt"  during  confinement.  The  cloth  worn 
as  a  napkin  after  confinement  is  also  carefully  burn- 
ed. The  after-birth,  called  by  the  Indians  "cunoc," 
together  with  the  membranes  and  cord,  are  carried 
away  some  distance  and  burned.  After  the  birth  of 
the  child  the  mother  carefully  washes  it.  The  liga- 
tion and  care  of  the  cord,  or  rather  the  stump,  re- 
ceive the  most  careful  attention  from  her. 

It  is  carefully  anointed  with  an  oil  made  anti- 
septic (?)  by  the  use  of  herbs  gathered  by  the  In- 
dians for  that  purpose.  After  the  stump  has  fallen 
off  the  parts  are  washed  and  again  anointed.  Um- 
bilical hernia  among  Indians  is  very  rare.  I  have 
never  seen  a  case;  neither  can  I  find  any  report  of 
such  an  accident  in  the  experience  of  other  physi- 
cians. 

Dr.  A.  I.  Comfort,  Acting  Assistant  Surgeon,  United 
States  Army,  whose  experience  with  Indian  tribes 
covers  a  period  of  not  lesis  than  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury, and  Mdiose  contributions  on  aboriginal  ar- 
chaeological Indian  mounds  to  the  Smithsonian  In- 
stitution, as  well  as  his  valuable  contributions  to  the 
Army  Medical  Museum  on  Indian  crania  and  skel- 
etons, have  given  him  such  a  wide  reputation  as  an 
investigator,  writes  me  as  follows: 

"Among  the  Dakotas,  Algonquins,  Navajos,  etc., 
the  age  of  Indian  girls  at  the  appearance  of  men- 
struation is  from  12  to  14,  though  it  is  modified  by 
climate,  tribal  habits  and  other  causes.     White  girls 


92 


at  frontier  posts  on  the  prairies  menstruate  at  an 
early  age.  Diseases  peculiar  to  the  sex  are,  accord- 
ing to  my  observation,  uncommon  among  Indian 
women — or,  at  least,  they  are  not  expected  to,  and 
do  not,  complain.  I  once  saw  an  Indian  mother  of 
but  12  years  of  age. 

"The  occurrence  of  parturition  rarely  takes  place 
after  30,  and  I  have  no  recollection  of  any  case  over 
35  years  of  age. 

"The  mortality  of  parturient  women  among  the 
Indian  tribes  is,  according  to  my  observation,  less 
than  among  white  women,  though  I  have  observed 
no  difference  between  them  and  half-breed  women 
subject  to  the  same  tribal  .influences.  I  do  not  rec- 
ollect having  seen  more  than  six  children  in  one  fam- 
ily of  Indians,  and  the  number  rarely  exceeds  four, 
though  where  a  plurality  of  wives  exists  each  wife 
may  have  four,  rarely  more.  The  Indian  warrior 
finds  the  exigencies  of  the  chase  a  meagre  support 
for  a  large  family;  and  the  Indian  women  become 
very  expert  abortionists,  though  they  sometimes  push 
their  remedies  too  far,  and  terminate  their  lives  by 
their  rashness. 

"Post-partum  haemorrhage  is,  according  to  my 
observation,  rare. 

"There  is  no  systematic  position  assumed  by  In- 
dian women  during  labor;  they  stand  or  walk,  sit  or 
kneel,  though  in  the  second  or  third  stage  they  pre- 
fer a  dorsal  decubitus." 

A  fair  description  of  parturition  among  Indian 
women  may  be  found  in  Clark  and  Lewis'  Travels, 
who  describe  the  pregnant  Indian  women  as  falling 
into  labor  while  on  the  journey,  leading  the  pony 
attached  to  the  travois.     As  the  pains  become  un- 


93 


bearable  she  transfers  her  charge  to  her  husband, 
runs  to  the  river,  gives  birth  to  her  child,  washes 
it,  swathes  it  in  swaddling  clothes,  and  runs  and 
joins  her  husband,  who  has  not  halted  in  his  journey. 

In  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  Vol. 
II,  pp.  420,  you  will  find  the  following  quotation: 
*'In  one  quarter  of  an  hour  an  Indian  woman  would 
be  merry  in  the  house,  delivered,  and  be  merry 
again;  within  two  days  abroad,  and  after  four  or 
five  days  at  work." 

Dr.  Carlos  Montezuma,  agency  physician  at  the 
Western  Shoshone  Agency,  Nebraska,  writes  me  that 
the  Piutes  and  Shoshone  girls  menstruate  at  the  aver- 
age age  of  13  years.  Some  years  ago  while  attend- 
ing physician  at  the  Indian  Industrial  School  in 
North  Dakota,  he  found  the  average  at  menstrua- 
tion among  the  Gros-Ventres  and  Arecharees  and 
Mandans  as  high  as  15  years,  while  among  the 
Apaches  of  Arizona  he  estimates  the  average  at  12 
years.  In  his  experience  he  finds  that  Indian  girls 
menstruate  about  one  year  earlier  than  white  girls. 
Concerning  uterine  diseases,  displacements,  etc.,  he 
reports  that  in  his  experience  these  disorders  are 
more  frequent  than  is  generally  understood.  Owing 
to  timidity  on  the  part  of  the  women,  digital  exam- 
inations are  not  allowed,  and  for  this  reason  fewer 
gynaecological  cases  are  reported.  The  youngest 
mother  he  ever  attended  was  15  years  of  age,  and 
the  oldest  45. 

''The  mortality  among  the  Indian  women  during 
childbirth  is  less  than  among  their  white  sisters, 
which  is  due  to  more  perfect  development  of  their 
reproductive  apparatus."  The  largest  family  of  In- 
dian children,  he  reports  in  his  experience,  is  eight. 


94 


Post-partum  haemorrhage  he  reports  as  uncommon. 
The  position  at  confinement  is  that  of  squatting  or 
kneeling,  in  the  majority  of  instances  in  the  tribes 
among  whom  he  has  been  stationed. 

Dr.  Montezuma  states  that  the  Indian  women  tie 
the  cord  twice — the  first  knot  about  four  inches  from 
the  navel,  the  second  two  inches — the  point  of  sev- 
erance between  the  two  knots  being  close  to  the  one 
first  tied. 

Dr.  George  W.  Era,  a  surgeon  in  the  Indian  Ser- 
vice at  Santee  Agency,  Nebraska,  writes  that  his  ex- 
perience places  the  average  age  at  menstruation  in 
Indian  girls  at  14  years.  He  does  not  find  diseases 
of  women  common  among  the  full-blood  Indian  wo- 
men. He  attended  one  Indian  woman  in  confinement 
as  young  as  14,  and  another  as  old  as  47.  He  finds 
the  mortality  among  full-blood  Indian  women  very 
much  less  than  among  half-breed  or  white  women. 
The  largest  number  of  children  in  any  one  family 
in  his  experience  has  been  sixteen.  Post-partum 
haemorrhage  he  has  found  a  "very  rare"  complica- 
tion. 

With  regard  to  the  most  common  position  at  de- 
livery he  has  observed  that  the  kneeling  position  is 
preferred  by  most  Indian  women ;  they  are  taught  to 
kneel,  bending  forward  over  a  chair  or  some  other 
firm  support.  The  services  of  "pale-face  doctors" 
are  seldom  called  for  in  normal  labor,  but  "in  cases 
of  complications  or  difficulty,  when  called,  they  al- 
ways under  my  directions  readily  assume  either  the 
left  lateral  or  dorsal. ' '  They  are  ready  to  accept  his 
instructions  as  to  the  advantages  of  these  posi- 
tions over  their  own  customs. 

Dr.  C.  A.  Wray,  who  has  spent  several  years  among 

95 


the  Yankton  and  Crow  Creek  Indians,  and  who  is 
at  present  surgeon  at  Yankton  Indian  Agency,  writes 
that  the  average  age  of  Indian  girls  at  the  appear- 
ance of  menstruation  is  16  years.  He  finds  that 
diseases  peculiar  to  women  are  very  infrequent 
among  the  Indians.  He  has  attended  one  Indian 
mother  at  the  early  age  of  15  years,  and  the  oldest 
parturient  is  one  of  48  years  of  age.  He  concludes 
that  the  mortality  of  Indian  women  at  childbirth  is 
much  less  than  that  of  half-breed  or  white  women, 
but  post-partum  haemorrhage  he  finds  of  not  uncom- 
mon occurrence.  He  reports  one  Indian  mother  who 
had  given  birth  to  nineteen  children. 

Dr.  A.  E.  Marden,  surgeon  in  the  United  States 
Indian  service  at  the  Mescalero  Apache  reservation. 
New  Mexico,  writes  that  the  average  age  of  Indian 
girls  at  the  appearance  of  menstruation  is  13  years. 
He  finds  diseases  of  women  very  infrequent  among 
Indian  women.  The  age  of  the  youngest  Indian 
mother  has  been  14,  and  that  of  the  oldest  44.  The 
mortality  among  Indian  women  is  found  markedly 
less  than  that  among  half-breeds.  Post-partum 
haemorrhage  he  reports  of  uncommon  occurrence. 
The  largest  number  of  children  in  any  one  family 
in  his  experience  has  been  six.  The  position  he  finds 
most  common  in  delivery  is  that  of  squatting  on  the 
hips. 

''Lusk's  'Science  of  Midwifery,'  page  208,  says,  in 
referring  to  Hold's  method  as  recommended  by 
Olshausen :  '  The  patient  should  at  the  same  time 
be  directed  not  to  hold  her  breath  during  the  pains, 
except  ivhen  they  are  weak  and  powerle'ss.'  We 
would  naturally  infer  from  this  that  holding  the 
breath  would  increase  the  expulsive  efforts.     While 


96 


Government  physician  at  the  White  Earth  reserva- 
tion, Minnesota,  I  had  several  opportunities  to  notice 
the  management  of  labor  among  the  Chippewa  In- 
dians, although  the  'pale-face  doctor'  is  rarely  called 
to  attend  such  cases  any  more  than  the  Indian  'Mus- 
kee-kee-winnie'  (medicine  man).  Hold's  method  re- 
minds me  of  a  practice  which  I  have  often  witnessed 
of  the  attendant  Indian  midwife  placing  the  hand 
almost  violently  on  the  mouth  of  the  patient  during 
'the  pains'  whenever  they  seem  to  be  'good,'  and 
omitting  to  do  so  when  they  were  weak  and  power- 
less."* 

-With  regard  to  the  posture  of  Indian  women  in 
labor,  I  have  found  it  to  vary  in  almost  every  in- 
stance. In  Dr.  Engelmann's  work  on  Labor  among 
Primitive  Peoples,  he  states  that  amongst  United 
States  Indians  the  positions  assumed  in  labor  are 
mostly  kneeling,  clinging  to  a  tent-pole,  the  body 
inclined  forward,  or  to  a  rope  or  horizontal  statf, 
body  inclined  backwards,  often  squatting ;  occasion- 
ally sitting,  semi-recumbent  in  the  lap  or  on  the 
floor;  semi-recumbent  or  kneeling  erect;  more  rare- 
ly recumbent ;  standing  erect,  clinging  to  the  neck 
of  an  assistant ;  tied  to  a  tree  or  suspended,  or  in 
the  knee-chest  position.  Concerning  the  position  as- 
sumed in  labor  among  the  Chippewa  Indians,  Dr. 
Engelmann  states  that  "if  the  parturient  is  of  the 
wild  or  blanket  Indians,  a  quantity  of  dry  grass  is 
spread  on  the  ground  of  the  te-pee  or  house  if  they 
have  any.  A  pole,  six  to  ten  feet  long  and  three  to 
four  inches  in  diameter,  is  placed  on  the  backs  of 
chairs  or  fixed  across  one  corner  of  the  room  about 

*From  a  paper  by  the  writer  iu  the  New  York  Medical 
Journal,  May,  1882. 

97 


the  height  of  a  chair,  behind  which,  with  it  across 
her  chest,  the  woman  rests  on  her  knees  during  the 
pains,  sitting  down  in  the  interval.  Those  who  are 
partly  civilized  assume  a  somewhat  similar  position, 
but  use  straw  overlaid  by  quilts  and  blankets." 

Dr.  Engelmann  also  states  that  the  Chippewa 
seems  to  draw  horizontal!}^  from  the  cross-bar,  and 
not  to  rest  herself  or  raise  herself  as  do  those  Indians 
who  support  themselves  by  staff  or  pole.  This  state- 
ment, although  in  the  main  correct,  gives  a  wrong 
idea  of  the  mechanism.  The  parturient  Chippewa 
rests  upon  the  pole,  and  only  incidentally  draws 
upon  it,  and  for  this  very  reason  the  pole  is 
carefully  wound  with  many  thicknesses  of  cloth. 
Blankets  are  spread  upon  the  floor  upon  which,  in 
the  intervals,  she  rests.  This  is  a  customary  posi- 
tion for  these  people  in  labor,  and  such  poles  are 
carefully  cut  and  prepared  for  this  purpose  and  are 
retained  as  one  of  the  household  implements,  and 
are  loaned  from  family  to  family  as  required.  I 
have  found  great  difficulty  in  obtaining  information 
concerning  midwifery  among  the  Chippewas.  The 
Indians  send  for  the  government  physician  only  in 
rare  cases,  and  they  object  to  any  kind  of  operative 
interference  except  under  the  most  urgent  necessity. 
The  midwives  are  exceedingly  reticent  and  jealous 
of  what  knowledge  they  possess,  but  they  show  very 
keen  interest  in  the  pale-face  doctors'  methods  of 
procedure  in  labor,  and  are  very  intelligent  critics. 
I  remember  explaining  to  one  Carl  Braun's  method 
of  lateral  incisions  in  cases  of  impending  rupture 
of  the  perinaeum.  To  my  surprise  she  seemed  to 
think  it  might  be  a  very  good  idea.  She  expressed 
great  delight  with  my  blunt,  pointed  bistoury,  and 


98 


seemed  to  comprehend  how  many  hundreds  of  miles 
I  had  brought  it  over  the  "Big  Sea  Water." 

Rupture  of  the  perinaeum  seems  to  be  a  rare  oc- 
currence among  the  full-blood  Indians,  but  among 
the  half-breed  women  I  understand  it  is  becoming 
quite  common.  The  Chippewas  have  no  reasonable 
treatment  for  post-partum  haemorrhage.  They  at- 
tempt little  to  save  the  patient.  Upon  my  question- 
ing my  attendant,  who  had  been  in  charge  of  a  young 
woman  who  had  bled  to  death  after  labor,  she  in- 
formed me  that  if  the  primitive  methods  they  had 
used  could  not  save  her,  she  supposed  nothing  could 
be  done.  I  mentioned  this  case  to  the  head  chief,  a 
very  intelligent  man,  and  he  expressed  his  regret 
that  I  had  not  been  called  in  time  to  save  the  life  of 
the  young  woman.  At  a  council  of  the  Indians  held 
shortly  afterward  he  urgently  advised  them  to  send 
for  the  pale-face  doctor  in  cases  of  emergency.  He 
acknowledged  that  our  art  was  superior  to  their  own 
old-fashioned  ways.  He  recognized  the  fact  that  the 
Indians  were  dying  off  too  fast,  and  that  it  was  well 
worth  while  to  do  everything  possible  to  save  life. 

"Commonly  labor  is  conducted  most  privately  and 
quietly;  the  Indian  squaw  is  wont  to  steal  off  into 
the  woods  for  her  confinement.  Alone  or  accompa- 
nied by  a  female  relative  or  friend  she  leaves  the 
village,  as  she  feels  the  approach  of  labor,  to  seek 
some  retired  spot;  upon  the  bank  of  a  stream  is  the 
favorite  place  the  world  over,  the  vicinity  of  water, 
moving  water  if  possible,  is  sought,  so  that  the  young 
mother  can  bathe  herself  and  her  child,  and  return 
to  the  village  cleansed  and  purified  when  all  is  over. 
This  is  true  of  the  Sioux,  the  Comanches,  the  Son- 
kawas,  the  Nez-Perces,  the  Apaches,  the  Cheyennes 
and  other  of  our  Indian  tribes. 

99 


"The  Chippewas,  as  well  as  the  Winnebagos,  also 
follow  this  custom.  The  natives  of  the  Caucasus, 
the  Dombars,  and  other  tribes  of  Southern  India, 
those  of  Ceram,  the  inhabitants  of  Loango,  of  Old 
Calabar,  and  many  of  the  African  races,  are  deliv- 
ered in  this  quiet  way;  and  the  women  are  not  only 
kept  apart  from  their  husbands  and  the  villagers 
during  their  confinement,  but  for  weeks  afterward. 
The  reason  why  we  know  so  little  of  Indian  labor 
is  the  great  secrecy  which  they  observe  regarding 
such  matters,  and  their  extreme  reluctance  to  speak 
to  inquisitive  whites  of  these  subjects  which  are  to 
them  enshrouded  in  a  veil  of  superstition  and  mys- 
tery. Some  of  the  Sioux  tribes,  the  Blackfeet  and 
the  Uncapapas,  are  in  the  habit  of  arranging  a  sep- 
arate lodge,  generally  a  temporary  one,  for  the  oc- 
casion, as  also  do  the  Klamaths,  the  Utes  and  others. ' ' 

As  soon  as  the  Indian  baby  is  born  it  is  placed  in 
a  coffin-shaped  receptacle,  where  it  passes  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  first  year  of  its  existence,  being  taken 
out  only  once  or  twice  a  day  for  washing  or  change 
of  clothing.  This  clothing  is  of  the  most  primitive 
character,  the  baby  being  simply  swaddled  in  a 
dressed  deerskin  or  piece  of  thick  cotton  cloth,  which 
envelops  the  whole  body  below  the  neck.  The  out- 
side of  the  cradle  varies  with  the  wealth  or  taste  of 
the  mother,  scarcely  two  being  exactly  alike.  Some 
are  elaborately  ornamented  with  furs,  feathers  and 
bead-work,  others  are  perfectly  plain.  Whatever  the 
outside,  the  cases  themselves  are  nearly  the  same. 
A  piece  of  dried  buffalo  hide  is  cut  into  proper  shape, 
then  turned  on  itself,  and  the  front  fastened  to  a 
board,  or  in  the  most  approved  cradles,  to  two  nar- 
row pieces  of  board  joined  in  the  form  of  an  X. 


100 


It  forms  a  real  "nest  of  comfort;"  and  as  the 
Indians  are  not  "sticklers"  on  the  score  of  cleanli- 
ness, it  is  the  very  best  cradle  that  they  could  adopt. 
To  the  board  or  boards  is  attached  a  strap,  which 
passed  over  the  head,  rests  on  the  mother's  chest  and 
shoulders,  leaving  the  arms  free.  When  about  the 
lodge  the  mother  stands  the  cradle  in  some  out-of-the- 
way  corner,  or  in  fine  weather  against  a  tree;  or  if 
the  wind  is  blowing  fresh  it  is  hung  to  a  branch, 
where  it  fulfils  all  the  promise  of  the  nursery  rhyme. 
When  the  baby  is  ten  months  to  a  year  old  it  is  re- 
leased from  its  confinement,  and  for  a  year  or  two 
more  of  its  life  takes  its  short  journeys  on  its  moth- 
er's back  in  a  simple  way.  It  is  placed  well  up  on 
her  back  between  the  shoulders;  the  blanket  is  then 
thrown  over  both,  and  being  drawn  tightly  at  the 
front  of  her  neck  by  the  mother,  leaves  a  fold  behind 
in  which  the  little  one  rides  securely  and  apparently 
without  the  slightest  inconvenience  to  either  rider 
or  ridden.  I  have  seen  a  Nez  Perce  woman  play  a 
vigorous  game  of  ball  with  a  baby  on  her  back.  * 

The  stature  of  the  Indian  woman  is  usually  short ; 
a  well-built,  sturdy  frame,  capable  of  incessant  toil 
and  able  to  endure  great  fatigue.  The  shoulders  are 
broad,  the  arms  long,  and  the  hips  large,  suggesting 
a  capacious  pelvis.  The  whole  bearing  is  one  of  for- 
titude, perseverance  and  unflagging  devotion  to 
womanly  duty.  When  we  consider  how  severe  is 
their  life,  how  uninterrupted  their  toil,  we  are 
amazed  that  their  womanly  functions  do  not  break 
down  under  the  strain  of  maternity  and  child-nurs- 

*The  above  is  taken  from  "Our  Wild  Indians,"  written  by 
Colonel  Richard  I.  Dodge,  United  States  Army,  and  is  a  truth- 
ful description. 

101 


ing.  Diseases  peculiar  to  women  are  rare  among 
them.  "Their  theory  of  disease  is  that  it  all  resides 
in  the  blood;  to  prove  this  they  always  recite  the 
fact  that  the  blood  always  collects  underneath  a 
bruise  and  makes  it  dark ;  also  the  fact  that  drawn 
blood  coagulates,  hence  their  favorite  remedy  was 
scarification  with  small  flints."  (Dr.  Powell,  "Con- 
tributions to  N.  A.  Ethnology,"  Vol.  III). 

The  use  of  inunction  with  oil  by  Indian  midwives 
is  quite  common.  A  drink  made  from  a  root  steeped 
in  hot  water  to  encourage  easy  and  quick  delivery 
is  in  use  among  the  O  jib  ways. 

The  "squaw  belt"  is  a  broad  bandage  of  buckskin 
or  of  some  firm  material,  more  or  less  ornamented. 
These  belts  or  bandages  are  made  use  of  just  before, 
during,  and  after  delivery.  Dr.  Engelmann  states 
that  "among  many  people  there  is  a  certain  time  of 
rest  and  isolation,  which  is  governed  more  partic- 
ularly by  their  religious  belief  of  their  uncleanliness. 
The  puerpera  is  said  to  be  unclean  during  the  time 
succeeding  delivery  as  she  is  during  menstruation." 

Dr.  Fields  states  concerning  the  treatment  of  the 
puerperal  state  that  "it  is  not  alike  in  all  the  tribes. 
Some  require  the  woman  to  keep  on  her  feet  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  taking  short  walks  around 
the  camp,  and  resting  only  when  she  becomes  very 
weary ;  for  a  period  of  three  or  four  days  the  woman 
continues  these  walks,  with  an  occasional  hour  in  a 
reclining  posture  to  rest  her  feet;  then  she  is  con- 
sidered well.  The  object  of  this  is  to  facilitate  the 
flow  of  the  lochia ;  they  think  that  should  the  woman 
lie  in  bed  the  blood  would  accumulate  in  the  ab- 
dominal cavity,  and  she  must  die."  Among  many 
of  the  Indian  tribes  both  mother  and  child  receive  a 


102 


cold  water  bath;  invariably  the  child  is  bathed  im- 
mediately after  delivery  and  then  secured  in  its 
pappoose  holder. 

That  the  robust  condition  and  easy  mode  of  child- 
bearing  are  rapidly  disappearing  from  even  the  full- 
blood  Indian  women  there  can  be  no  doubt.  The 
bed  has  taken  the  place  of  the  blanket  or  the  pallet 
of  straw,  and  the  "puerperal  state"  that  of  the  ready 
condition  for  renewed  toil  immediately  after  child- 
birth. The  daughters  and  granddaughters  of  these 
sturdy  aboriginal  matrons  consult  the  pale-face  doc- 
tor, and  are  rapidly  acquiring  the  methods  of  pale- 
face women.  We  can  do  little  to  prevent  this  evo- 
lution. One  great  stumbling-block  toward  success 
in  this  direction  is  the  present  physical  condition  of 
the  Indians.  From  an  out-of-door  life  of  activity 
with  plenty  of  fresh  game  and  wholesome  food  and 
clear  water,  with  a  healthful  te-pee  for  home,  the 
change  has  been  made  to  log  cabins  with  overheated, 
close  air.  Poor  food,  with  flour  and  salted  meat  of 
inferior  quality,  is  mostly  what  is  found  in  the  mod- 
ern Indian  home.  In  exchange  for  an  active  life 
there  is  much  of  idleness  and  indoor  confinement. 
Instead  of  being  taught  how  to  cook  good,  whole- 
some food,  and  to  make  the  home  healthy,  happy  and 
attractive,  embroidery,  poetry,  music,  sentimental 
and  religious  readings  are  given  too  much  place. 
These  efforts  often  made  in  so-called  Indian  edu- 
cation are  certainly  ill-advised.  Partly  on  this  ac- 
count the  naturally  robust  constitution  is  deteriorat- 
ing, and  miscarriages  and  diseases  peculiar  to  women 
are  noticeably  increasing,  to  the  surprise  and  dis- 
gust of  the  Indian  mothers  and  grandmothers.  The 
changes  made  are  too  sudden  and  too  radical — cer- 


103 


tainly  they  are  not  rational — and  the  inevitable  re- 
sult i8  just  what  might  be  expected — very  general 
failure. 

We  find  just  such  errors  in  the  education  of  the 
colored  people.  Instead  of  teaching  them  first  to 
earn  an  honest  living,  as  our  fathers  did,  by  toil  and 
physical  labor,  these  misguided  philanthropists  wish 
to  make  "exhibition  pupils"  of  them.  If  hygiene 
and  manual  labor  could  be  looked  after  more  care- 
fully, then  might  follow  the  cultivation  of  the  arts. 
It  seems  neither  right  nor  wise  to  begin  with  em- 
broidery and  music  in  the  education  of  an  Indian 
girl,  when  kitchen  and  housework  is  so  often  totally 
neglected.  The  Indian,  like  the  white  man,  should 
work  his  way  up  from  the  lower  round  of  the  lad- 
der; and  unless  this  be  the  method,  disaster  is  cer- 
tain to  follow. 

Under  these  circumstances,  is  it  at  all  to  be  won- 
dered at  that,  mentally  and  physically,  so  many  of 
our  Indians  are  degenerating?  For  the  Indian,  as 
well  as  for  any  one  else,  idleness  can  act  only  as  a 
serious  injury.  To  be  sure,  it  is  very  difficult  to  find 
suitable  teachers  imbued  alike  with  a  sincere  interest 
for  their  welfare  and  at  the  same  time  possessing 
ordinary  common  sense.  Whether  it  be  wise  to  stuff 
the  Indian  head  with  book  learning  at  the  expense 
of  his  bodily  health  is  a  question  which  many  good 
people  seem  to  differ  upon  very  decidedly.  The  good 
people  in  charge  of  Indian  training  can  hardly  be 
accused  of  insincerity  or  of  intentional  neglect  of 
the  physical  vigor  of  the  Indian  children;  but  it  is 
beyond  peradventure  that  a  visit  to  any  of  our  In- 
dian schools  will  convince  one  that  the  wholesale 
ignoring  of  the  laws    of    nature    must    end  only  in 


104 


physical  injury,  if  not  in  gjeneral  impairment  of  the 
bodies  of  the  children. 

The  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  have  a  curious  cus- 
tom which  also  obtains,  though  to  a  limited  extent, 
among  other  of  the   Plains  tribes.      No   unmarried 
woman  considers  herself  dressed  to  meet  her  lover 
at  night,  to  go  to  a  dance  or  other  gathering,  unless 
she  has  tied  her  lower  limbs  with  a  rope,  in  such  a 
way,  however,  as  not  to  interfere  with  her  powers 
of  locomotion;    and  every  married  woman  does  the 
same  before  going  to  bed  when  her  husband  is  ab- 
sent.    Custom  has  made  this  an  almost  perfect  pro- 
tection against  the  brutality  of  the  men.     Without 
it  she  would  not  be  safe  an  instant;    and  even  with 
it  an  unmarried  girl  is  not  safe  if  found  alone  away 
from  the    immediate    protection  of    her    lodge.     A 
Cheyenne  woman,  either  married  or  single,  is  never 
seen  alone.     The  sale  of  a  wife  is  not  unusual,  though 
becoming  less  so  every  year.     The  Indians  are  very 
fond  of  children  and  anxious  to  have  as  many  as 
possible.     Should  the  wife  not  bear  a  child  in  a  rea- 
sonable time  she  is  liable  to  be  sold.  * 

My  experience  with  the  Indians  has  been  that  ex- 
cept in  the  vicinity  of  military  garrisons  very  little 
of  acute  venereal  disease  is  to  be  found.  For  six 
months  the  hospital  returns  showed  no  cases  of  vene- 
real disease  treated  at  White  Earth  reservation. 
The  record  was  broken  at  the  end  of  that  time  by 
the  return  of  a  half-breed  from  the  settlement  with 
a  case  of  acute  gonorrhoea.  The  native  Indian  wo- 
men are  virtuous  and  faithful  to  their  lovers  and 
husbands.     Adultery    is    severely    punished    and    is 


•Colonel  Dodge  in  "Our  Wild  Indians." 
105 


commonly  condemned.  Bastardy  is  a  crime  even 
among  Indians,  and  the  reproach  is  an  everlasting 
disgrace.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  standard  of  vir- 
tue is  as  high  among  the  Chippewas  as  among  their 
pale-face  sisters.  "The  green-eyed  monster  is  to  be 
found  in  te-pee  as  well  as  in  palace." 

Colonel  Dodge  has  translated  a  Cheyenne  woman's 
song,  which  gives  some  insight  into  Indian  ethnology : 

"I  will  leave  my  husband,  hah,  ha,  ha,  ha, 

ha,  yo,  O! 
But  attend  to    what  I  say  to  you,    ha,  ha, 

ha,  ha,  yo! 
You    must  be    good  to  me,  ha,    ha,  yo,  e! 
And  not  make  love  to  other  women,  ha,  yo, 

ha,  0!" 

To  discard  an  old  disagreeable  wife  for  a  young 
and  agreeable  companion  is  not  uncommon  even 
among  good  Indians. 

To  investigate  the  habits  and  customs  of  our  native 
North  Americans  is  to  demonstrate  how  closely  al- 
lied are  the  nations  of  the  earth.  We  are  forced  to 
concede  that  these  people  we  regard  as  savages  pos- 
sess knowledge  at  least  on  matters  of  hygiene,  if  not 
in  medical  art,  quite  worthy  of  attention.  We  can 
find  suggestions  which  may  be  useful  in  our  profes- 
sional work  among  more  cultivated  individuals.  The 
Indian  woman  in  her  humble  sphere  inspires  even 
in  savage  hearts  the  respect  for  womanhood  and 
motherhood  which  was  once  so  prominently  a  type 
of  the  honor  and  manhood  of  the  ancient  Romans, 
and  which  is  the  natural  characteristic  of  Anglo- 
Saxons.  The  source  from  which  our  aborigines  de- 
rived their  knowledge — it  certainly  seems  more  than 


106 


mere  instinct— must  remain  an  unsolved  riddle.  We 
have  shown  enough  to  suggest  the  remarkable  sim- 
ilarity in  Indian  customs  to  those  of  the  ancient  laws 
of  the  Israelites.  Possibly  the  theory  that  our  In- 
dians are  remnants  of  "the  lost  tribes"  may  be  a 
reasonable  one.  The  reverence  universally  exhibited 
among  Indians  at  the  mention  of  the  name  of  the 
Great  Spirit— the  bowed  head  and  the  open  extend- 
ed palms  of  the  hands— is  certainly  very  suggestive ; 
when  we  add  to  this  the  laws  governing  uncleanness 
we  are  forced  to  wonder  at  the  coincidence. 

Whether  so  or  not,  we  certainly  can  discover  in 
our  aborigines  traits  that  are  worthy  of  our  esteem, 
and  characteristics  worthy  of  our  sincere  regard. 


107 


THE  MUSKEE-KEE  WIN-NI-NEE. 

The  Medicine-Man   of   the   North   American   In- 
dians. 


The  medicine-man  among  all  North  American  In- 
dians is  a  person  of  conspicuous  importance,  as  he 
is  supposed  to  possess  control  over  mysterious  agen- 
cies, and  to  be  endowed  with  powers  well-nigh  super- 
natural. He  is  believed  to  be  not  only  under  the 
influence  of  spirits  of  great  power,  but  to  have  more 
or  less  control  over  them,  compelling  their  aid  for 
weal  or  woe,  upon  friend  or  enemy.  He  is  also  sup- 
posed to  be  able  to  interpret  signs  of  major  or  minor 
import,  and  to  foretell  the  severity  or  mildness  of  ap- 
proaching seasons,  and  the  appropriateness  of  time 
for  expeditions  concerned  in  the  chase,  or  in  war. 

These  doctors,  magicians,  prophets,  dreamers,  or 
whatever  the  medicine-man  may  be  conceived  to  be, 
are  prepared  for  their  skilful  profession  only  after 
long  and  arduous  training.  The  tests  necessary  for 
recognition  as  skilful  and  responsible  practitioners 
are  often  very  severe  and  exacting,  requiring  physi- 
cal endurance  and  bravery  of  no  mean  order.  These 
ordeals  or  tests  when  completed  endow  the  medicine- 
man with  magical  and  mysterious  powers  of  cure  and 
prophecy,  acknowledged  by  all  the  tribes. 

Oftentimes  the  renown  of    these    men    will    have 


108 


spread  among  other  tribes  and  even  among  other 
nations,  Indians  making  long  journeys  to  consult  and 
listen  to  the  distinguished  Shaman.  Young  men  who 
are  seeking  to  become  great  prophets  travel  far  for 
the  instruction  of  those  celebrated  in  the  mythical 
arts;  but  such  instances  are  by  no  means  common, 
as  each  tribe  has  its  own  system  of  arriving  at  results. 

The  medicine-lodge  is  believed  by  many  to  be  the 
actual  habitation  of  the  Great  Spirit ;  it  is  as  it  were 
their  tabernacle,  or  Sacred  Ark  in  the  wilderness. 
Col.  Inman  in  his  Salt  Lake  Trail  thus  describes  the 
inliuence  of  the  medicine-lodge : 

"When  the  prophecies  of  these  medicine-men  fail, 
the  Indians  attribute  it  to  some  neglect  of  the  in- 
structions imparted,  and  not  to  any  deficiency  in 
their  medicine-man;  but  when  success  occurs,  great 
is  the  honor  bestowed  upon  their  prophet.  Their 
confidence  in  these  medicine-men  is  really  remark- 
able." 

The  Indian  believes  in  the  inunortality  of  the  soul, 
and  in  his  dreams  and  in  the  semi-delirium  of  sick- 
nesses or  accidents  gains  an  insight  into  future  mys- 
teries, and  has  glimpses  of  the  beauties  and  happi- 
ness of  the  life  to  come.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
therefore  that  to  his  prophets  he  attributes  great 
discernment  in  these  and  all  other  matters  of  impor- 
tance. 

Among  the  0  jib  ways  the  commonest  form  of  greet- 
ing is  Bo-zho-nee-chee.  Bo-zho  is  undoubtedly  a 
corruption  of  the  French,  Bon  jour,  which  thick- 
mouthed  French  voyageurs  have  repeated  in  the 
hearing  of  Indians ;  and  so  after  centuries  the  words 
Bo-zho  have  become  almost  universal  among  Algon- 
(piin  Indians,  or  those  living  along  the  Great  Lakes 

109 


and  upon  the  Mississippi,  Missouri,  and  Ohio  rivers. 
So  early  trappers  witnessed  the  wonderful  influence 
of  the  medieine-men  and  also  saw  that  these  posses- 
sors of  supernatural  powers  made  use  of  it  in  heal- 
ing diseased  bodies,  as  well  as  in  controlling  the  mind 
and  spirit.  They  therefore  called  these  men  mede- 
cin,  or  doctor. 

From  calling  them  doctor  or  medecin  it  was  an 
easy  transition  to  call  their  power  by  the  same  name, 
and  the  similiarity  in  sounds  of  the  English  and  the 
French  words  made  the  term  readily  adapted  by 
the  English-speaking  people.  So  at  last  mcdicine- 
man  came  to  mean  the  man  having  mysterious  pow- 
er over  medicine  or  magic  or  mysterious  arts  in 
general ;  and  the  medicine-man  controlling  the 
medicine  and  some  medicine  being  good,  some  evil, 
certain  things  came  to  be  called  "good  medicine" 
or  "bad  medicine,"  and  certain  occurrences  to  be 
"good  medicine"  or  "bad  medicine,"  in  other  words 
"propitious"  or  "unpropitious. " 

Traditions  have  also  been  in  the  keeping,  as  it 
were,  of  the  medicine-men.  Colonel  Inman,  in  his 
Salt  Lake  Trail,  mentions  that  the  Indians  of  North 
America  or  most  of  them  have  a  tradition  of  a  great 
flood  or  deluge  which  occurred  ages  ago.  While  on 
the  expedition  of  General  Carr,  in  1869,  when  Buf- 
falo Bill  (Cody)  was  Chief  of  Scouts,  a  member  of 
the  command  brought  into  camp  a  huge  bone.  The 
surgeon  of  the  expedition  examined  it  and  said  it 
certainly  must  be  an  enormous  femur  or  thigh  bone. 
The  Indians  agreed  with  this  theory,  but  claimed  it 
had  belonged  to  one  of  the  giants  which  inhabited 
the  earth  many  generations  back.  One  of  the  med- 
icine-men present  thus  explained  the  prodigious  size 

110 


of  this  apparently  human  bone.  "A  long  time 
ago,"  said  he,  "the  earth  was  peopled  by  warriors 
of  gigantic  stature.  These  Indians  were  huge 
enough  to  walk  beside  the  buffalo  and  lift  them  up 
and  carry  them  under  their  arms  as  a  man  would  a 
pet  dog.  These  warriors  became  so  powerful  that 
at  last  they  dared  to  defy  the  Great  Spirit!  This 
angered  the  Creator  and  He  ordered  the  rain  to 
come.  It  poured  so  continuously  that  all  the  rivers 
over-flowed  their  banks,  and  the  prairies  became  sub- 
merged. The  Indians  in  terror  fled  to  the  hills 
and  then  the  waters  rose  upon  them  there.  At 
last  they  climbed  the  highest  peak  of  the  Rockies, 
but  go  where  they  would  the  Great  Father's  ven- 
geance followed  them  and  engulfed  them  all.  Then 
the  earth  became  silent,  and  when  the  last  of  the 
waters  had  receded  and  all  was  dry  and  fair  again, 
the  Mighty  Creator  sent  a  new  race,  the  size  of  men 
we  now  see,  not  over  six  and  a  half  feet  tall.  These 
people  would  not  defy  the  Great  Spirit,  but  taught 
their  children  to  call  Him  Great  Father  and  to  wor- 
ship Him  for  His  goodness  and  implore  His  help 
and  protection  and  His  blessing.  The  Great  Father 
knows  the  hearts  and  minds  of  His  children  and  those 
who  love  Him  He  blesses." 

The  Indian  medicine-man  never  teaches  disrespect 
toward  or  rebellion  against  the  Great  Father,  neither 
does  he  count  his  art  as  wonderful  in  the  sight  of 
the  Creator  of  all  men  and  all  things. 

The  religion  of  the  Indians  promises  nothing  for 
the  next  world,  having  no  reference  to  it,  but  helps 
to  prolong  life  here.  The  Christian  religion  is  con- 
sidered greatly  inferior,  as  its  promises  are  for  the 
future  life. 

Ill 


The  ceremony  of  the  Grand  Medicine  is  an  elabo- 
rate ritual,  covering  several  days,  the  endless  num- 
ber of  gods  and  spirits  being  called  upon  to  minister 
to  the  sick  man  and  to  lengthen  his  life.  The  sev- 
eral degrees  of  the  Grand  Medicine  teach  the  use  of 
incantations,  of  medicines  and  poisons,  and  the  re- 
quirements necessary  to  constitute  a  Brave.  "When 
a  young  man  seeks  admission  to  the  Grand  Medicine 
Lodge,  he  first  fasts  until  he  sees  in  his  dream  some 
animal  (the  mink,  beaver,  otter,  and  fisher  being 
most  common)  which  he  hunts  and  kills.  The  skin 
is  then  ornamented  with  beads  or  porcupine  quills, 
and  the  spirit  of  the  animal  becomes  the  friend  and 
companion  of  the  man."  The  medicine-men  have 
only  a  limited  knowledge  of  herbs,  but  they  are  ex- 
pert in  dressing  wounds,  and  the  art  of  extracting 
barbed  arrows  from  the  fiesli  can  be  learned  from 
them. 

"After  going  through  with  certain  incantations, 
the  Grand-Medicine-man  tells  his  patient  that  his 
pain  is  caused  by  a  bear  or  some  other  animal,  which 
is  gnawing  at  the  vitals.  He  makes  a  most  infernal 
noise  in  order  to  drive  the  spirit  away,  and  if  the 
patient  recovers,  he  accredits  it  to  his  own  skill;  if 
death  follows,  he  falls  back  upon  the  plea  so  often 
used  by  his  white  brother,  '  I  was  called  too  late ! ' 
They  make  great  gain  out  of  the  people  and  are  their 
counsellors  in  peace  and  war.  They  are  bitter  op- 
ponents of  Christianity.  The  venerable  medicine- 
man Shadayence  was  the  most  cunning  antagonist 
I  ever  had  among  the  Indians. '  '* 

In  olden  times, — yes,  to  within  the  memory  of  liv- 

*From   Bishop  Whipple's   Autobiography,    "Lights  and 
Shadows  of  a  Long  Episcopate." 

112 


ing  0  jib  ways, — the  medicine-man  at  the  funeral  cer- 
emony thus  addressed  the  departed:  "Dear  friend, 
you  will  not  feel  lonely  while  pursuing  your  jour- 
ney towards  the  setting  sun.  I  have  killed  for  you 
a  Sioux  (hated  enemy  of  the  Ojibways),  and  I  have 
scalped  him.  He  will  accompany  you  and  provide 
for  you,  hunting  your  food  as  you  need  it.  The 
scalp  I  have  taken,  use  it  for  your  moccasins." 

And  yet  in  spite  of  these  apparently  heathenish 
rites,  the  Indian  is  never  an  atheist;  always  bending 
humbly  in  recognition  of  the  Great  Spirit,  the  Heav- 
enly Father,  the  Creator  of  all  things  and  all  men, 
' '  Geechee  Manito, ' '  Great  Sprit,  whom  we  in  English 
call  the  Almighty  God. 

The  Muskee-kee  win-ni-nee  or  medicine-man  is 
quite  a  different  individual  from  the  priest  or  proph- 
et or  magician.  The  Indian  doctor  is  very  skilful 
in  curing  simple  ailments.  Their  remedies  are  cath- 
artics, sweating  medicineg,  expectoranta  or  cou#i, 
and  lung  remedies;  diuretics,  remedies  acting  on  the 
kidneys,  emetics  to  produce  vomiting;  remedies  for 
inflammation  of  mucous  surfaces,  bladder,  etc.,  alter- 
atives to  eradicate  diseases,  bitter  herbs  for  tonics, 
and  soporifics,  narcotics,  etc.,  to  induce  sleep;  oint- 
ments, emulsions,  lotions,  teas,  etc.  When  we  con- 
sider the  Indian  remedies,  it  makes  quite  a  phar- 
macopoeia and  dispensatory.  Then  the  Indians  pos- 
sess very  strict  rules  concerning  the  management  of 
women  in  their  natural  ailments,  and  unlike  the 
Africans,  our  Redmen,  native  Americans,  are  a  clean, 
orderly  people  and  worthy  of  respect.  In  matters 
relating  to  hydrotherapy  they  exeel.  No  one  can 
give  better  sweatings. 

Down  by  one  of  the  sweat  lodges  a  woman  is  kind- 


US 


ling  fires  and  heating  the  stones  in  the  centre  of  the 
lodge  and  outside.  She  covers  the  frame  with  robes 
or  skins  so  as  to  keep  the  heat  in.  A  bucket  of  water 
stands  near  the  fire.  Soon  half  a  dozen  young  men 
come  to  the  place  and  following  them  the  medicine- 
man. The  young  men  drop  their  blankets  and  crawl 
into  the  sweat  lodge;  they  are  naked  as  they  creep 
beneath  the  coverings.  The  medicine-man  starts  his 
"Iloyhey,  Hoyhey,  Hoyhey,"*  and  sings  his  sacred 
songs.  The  woman  passes  a  vessel  into  the  sweat 
house;  the  water  hisses  as  it  falls  on  the  hot  stones, 
and  steam  creeps  forth  from  the  crevices  in  the  cov- 
erings. At  length  after  a  longer  or  shorter  exposure 
to  the  steam  heat,  the  men  creep  out,  rise,  and  all  wet 
with  perspiration  rush  down  to  the  stream  and 
plunge  into  the  cold  water.  This  is  the  famous  In- 
dian sweat  bath,  cleansing,  invigorating,  almost  stim- 
ulating. The  patient  feels  refreshed  and  like  a  new 
man.     It  is  primitive,  but  it  is  effective. 

And  last  but  not  least,  these  medicine-men  are 
skilled  in  counter-irritation  for  the  treatment  and 
cure  of  various  disorders. 


*The  word  "hoyhey"  is  hard  to  spell  in  English;  perhaps 
"y^(7j'-ee"  would  be  more  explanatory.  In  the  matter  of  cathar- 
tics the  Indians  outdo  their  pale-face  friends  in  the  abuse  and 
excess  of  these  remedies.  They  require  large  doses  and  as 
every  treatment  is  preceded  by  purgings,  some  attribute  their 
mortality  from  consumption  to  be  due  to  this  over-dosing. 
It  is  more  likely,  however,  that  the  change  from  well-ventilated 
teepees  to  close  cabins,  and  from  open  wood  fires  to  overheated 
iron  stoves,  and  from  venison,  prairie  chicken,  and  ground 
corn  cooked  in  open  fireplaces,  to  the  doughy  flour  bread 
baked  in  stoves,  that  this  is  due.  The  borders  of  the  lakes 
where  camps  and  cabins  have  long  been  established  become 
foul  and  unhealthy,  and  the  pure  water  they  have  been  used 
to  has  failed.  Change  of  habits  and  the  infrequency  of  the 
healthful  exercise  of  the  hunt,  also  act  against  their  once 
rugged  constitutions. 

114 


As  surgeons  they  excel  in  skilful  bandaging, 
splints,  and  other  treatment  of  fractures ;  in  deform- 
ities; in  the  treatment  of  snake,  dog,  wolf,  and  other 
bites.  They  are  adepts  in  extracting  arrows  and  bul- 
lets. Bishop  Whipple  once  narrated  to  me  how  the 
Indians  remove  an  arrow-head.  They  take  a  willow 
stick,  cut  it  exactly  in  half  by  dexterously  splitting 
it,  remove  the  pith  and  smoothing  the  ends  insert 
one  above  the  superior  flange  of  the  arrow,  the  other 
beneath,  then  bind  the  two  together  close  to  the 
wound  and  cautiously  remove  all. 

The  Indian  ambulance  or  travois  is  a  remarkable 
conveyance  for  carrying  the  wounded  out  of  reach 
of  the  battle,  or  for  transporting  him  over  long 
marches  to  his  home  camp.  The  comfort  of  this 
mode  of  conveyance  is  greater  than  would  appear  at 
first  sight.  It  is  from  witnessing  this  primitive 
method  among  our  Indians  that  American  army  sur- 
geons have  in  frontier  wars  adopted  this  system  and 
called  it  the  travois. 

Where  can  you  find  among  primitive  peoples  great- 
er natural  intelligence  in  all  that  pertains  to  every- 
day life?  In  the  manufacture  of  clothing,  of  tee- 
pees or  lodges,  of  arms,  or  ornaments  fit  for  a  prince 
to  wear?  In  point  of  fact,  the  clothing  of  a  well- 
to-do  Indian  squaw,  of  which  the  dress  of  the  wife 
of  the  Ute  chief  Uray  would  be  an  excellent  example, 
is  often  quite  valuable,  ranging  anywhere  from  fifty 
to  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  The  bead  orna- 
ments are  skilfully  and  beautifully  made,  handsome 
specimens  readily  bringing  in  our  eastern  stores 
from  ten  to  seventy-five  dollars.  The  decorated  otter 
and  mountain-lion  skins  and  the  well-known  buffalo 
hides  are  highly  prized.     The  skins  used  for  the  tee- 


115 


pees  or  lodges  are  most  carefully  tanned  and  prepared 
by  squaws.  Moccasins,  pouches,  rifle-cases,  knife- 
scabbards,  and  quirts,  are  well  made  and  command 
high  prices.  All  these  beautiful  things,  together  with 
pipes,  silver  ornaments,  precious  stones,  and  ores,  nug- 
gets of  gold,  are  freely  given  to  the  medicine-man 
for  his  professional  fees,  or  as  a  reward  from  "grate- 
ful patients"  for  some  extraordinary  success  in 
"cure."  The  ordinary  fee  for  the  Muskee-kee  win- 
ni-nee  is  in  yards  of  calico,  so  many  for  each  con- 
sultation. 

The  grand-medicine-lodge  is  usually  an  unroofed 
structure.  An  excellent  picture  of  the  open  struc- 
ture appeared  in  The  Oi)cn  Court,  in  the  article  on 
"The  Cross  Among  the  North  American  Indians" 
Vol.  XIII.,  p.  302.). 

The  honor  of  grand-medicine  is  now  and  then  con- 
ferred upon  "pale  faces,"  and  the  writer  received 
this  recognition  from  the  Ojibways  at  White  Earth 
Reservation,  in  1879.  The  initiation  reminds  one 
who  is  a  mason  of  the  ceremonies  in  one  of  the  blue- 
lodge  degrees,  and  certain  mysterious  signs  have 
stangely  enough  led  masons  to  believe  that  our  North 
American  Indians  are  not  wholly  unacquainted  with 
ancient  rites  closely  resembling  the  masonry  of  early 
times. 

Among  people  so  intelligent  and  so  competent  it 
follows  that  much  would  be  expected  of  the  medi- 
cine-man, occupying  as  he  does  a  position  of  dignity 
and  influence  and  oftentimes  of  wealth.  We  cannot 
study  our  aborigines  in  a  spirit  of  fairness  without 
discovering  among  them  characters  which  in  old 
Biblical  times  were  regarded  as  "wise  hearted"  men. 
The  Indian  in  peace  or  in  war  is  the  true  son  of  na- 

116 


ture,  a  believer  in  God,  a  loving  father,  a  devoted, 
enduring  friend,  and  a  consistent  enemy;  in  other 
words,  he  is  a  true  man. 


117 


CONCERNING   INDIAN   BURIAL 
CUSTOMS. 


THE  DEAD. 

"Under  the  pure  light  of  the  stars 

The  dead  sleep 
Wrapped  about  in  a  silence  unutterable, 
The  ages  come  and  go,  like  a  tale  that  is  told 
Time  stretches  out  to  the  golden  unbarred  gate 

Of  eternity, 
But  the  dead  sleep  on,  sleep  on." — Edgerton. 

From  the  earliest  times,  among  all  races  civilized 
or  savage,  man  has  always  cared  for  the  remains  of 
his  dead.  Failure  to  do  so  is  regarded  as  inhuman 
and  is  promptly  condemned.  Numerous  are  the 
rites  employed  in  mourning,  but  nowhere  can  we 
find  evidences  of  greater  respect  and  affection  for 
the  dead  than  among  our  North  American  Indians. 

There  are  those  who  seem  inclined  to  find  little 
that  is  praiseworthy  in  the  Indian  character,  but  a 
people  with  devoted  love  for  their  children,  profound 
religious  respect  for  the  Sacred  Name,  a  reverence 
for  their  dead  and  a  sincere  concern  for  their  last 
resting-places,  certainly  possess  qualities  which  are 
admirable  and  worthy  of  universal  commendation. 
All  these  honorable  characteristics  are  true  of  our 
North  American  Indians. 

Among  the  O  jib  ways,  particularly  the  Chippewas 
at  White  Earth,  Minnesota,  the  old-time  heathen 
rites  have  pretty  nearly  disappeared.     These  Chip- 

118 


pewas  are  Christian  Indians,  intelligent  and  posses- 
sing all  the  highest  qualities  of  the  red  man  with 
much  that  is  good  and  true  which  their  paleface 
friends  have  taught  them.  They  do  not  practice 
scaffold*  or  tree  burial  except  at  rare  instances. 
" Above-the-ground  burial"  is  also  practically  un- 
known to  them.  Their  funerals  are  conducted  with 
solemnity  and  devotion,  and  the  services  at  their 
churches  are  remarkably  pathetic  and  interesting,  to 
enable  friends  to  look  upon  the  grave  and  to  make 
offerings  of  food  or  flowers  or  any  other  thing  they 
may  wish  for  the  comfort  or  happiness  of  the  de- 
parted. 

The  Christian's  grave-house  is  usually  surmounted 
by  a  cross. 

Very  often  services  in  memory  of  the  dead  take 
place  with  much  of  feasting  and  dancing,  but  these 
latter  are  usually  indulged  in  by  the  wild  or  so- 
called  "heathen"  Indians.** 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  the  burial  of  the  fa- 
mous Chippewa  war-chief  "  Hole-in-the-Day, "  who 
died  as  he  had  lived  an  untamed  Indian,  with  that 
of  the  brave  and  good  "  Braveheart, "  who  on  hisi 
deathbed  requested  that  a  cross  be  placed  upon  his 
breast  and  a  large  one  above  his  grave,  so  that  when 
anyone  should  inquire  what  the  signification  of  the 

*Occasionally  some  heathen  Indian  will  be  buried  upon  a 
scaffold.  As  late  as  1889  Rev.  Mr.  Peake  saw  a  scaffold  burial 
at  Red  L,ake  Chippewa  Reservation  about  one  hundred  miles 
north  of  White  Earth  Reservation,  Minnesota. 


**The  word  heathen  is  a  misnomer  for  any  people  who  be- 
lieve and  reverence  God  whom  they  know  as  "Getche-Mani- 
to,"  the  Mighty,  the  Great  Spirit.  A  people  so  deeply  and 
truly  religious  may  not  have  received  the  light  of  Christianity, 
but  heathen  they  are  not. 

119 


cross  might  be,  this  shoukl  be  the  answer :  ' '  Tell  him 
that  beneath  that  cross  rests  the  remains  of  Brave- 
heart,  who  believes  in  the  white  man's  Saviour." 

In  1879  the  flags  still  waved  over  the  grave  of  the 
murdered  Hole-in-the-Day  to  signify  that  up  to  that 
time  his  friends  had  not  yet  avenged  his  cruel  death. 
A  more  restful  picture  is  the  following,  which  I 
was  privileged  to  witness:  One  afternoon  the  bell  of 
St.  Columba's  (a  wooden  church  it  was  then)  was  tol- 
ling, Indians  were  gathering  in  the  building  and  a 
two-wheel  ox-cart  was  being  slowly  driven  up  the 
hill.  The  cart  contained  a  plain  board  coffin,  with- 
in it  the  mortal  remains  of  a  young  Indian  wife. 
The  driver,  strange  to  state,  was  the  husband,  and 
his  grief  and  sorrow  were  genuine  beyond  a  doubt. 
Friends  helped  him  bring  the  remains  within  the 
church  porch,  and  the  beloved  Indian  priest  Emmen- 
gahbowh,  of  the  "Episcopal"  communion,  met  the 
corpse  at  the  door.  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the 
life"  came  forth  the  solemn  words  in  clear  Ojibway 
as  the  funeral  procession  passed  up  the  aisle  of  the 
church.  The  sweet  voices  of  the  Indians  with  the 
organ  accompaniment  sang  the  old  hymn  "Jesus 
Lover  of  My  Soul,"  and  others  just  as  pathetic. 
The  service  concluded,  the  silent  Indians  with  moc- 
casined  feet  passed  by  the  rude  coffin  to  take  a  last 
fond  look  at  the  dead.  Then  took  place  a  curious 
ceremony.  The  lid  of  the  coffin  was  only  lightly 
held  in  pla.ce  by  nails  which  had  been  withdrawn 
to  permit  the  "last  look."  A  friend  handed  the 
sad  husband  a  hammer,  he  drove  in  the  nails  way 
home  with  sturdy  blows,  the  sacred  building  re- 
sounding with  the  noise  and  with  the  sobs  of  the 
bereaved  friends.     Then  tenderly  the  bearers  carried 

120 


the    coffin    into    the    churchyard.      The    procession 
wound    its    way    by    graves    and    the    grave-houses 
till  it  reached  the  open  grave  for  this  new  arrival. 
Great  branches  of  pine  and  fir  covered  the  ground 
and   lined   the   last  ,resting-place.     Emmengahbowh 
in  priestly  surplice  read  the  committal  service,  and 
then,  while  the  voices  of  the  Indians  sang  again  a 
sweet  hymn,  the  body  was  gently  and  slowly  lowered 
to    its    resting-place.     Broad    strips    of  heavy  bark 
were  placed  over  the  coffin,  and  earth  fell  almost 
silently  while  friends  continued  the  sweet  songs  of 
hope  in  the  promises  of  the  Saviour.     What  a  picture 
it  was    in    the    far-away    Indian    Reservation,    this 
Christian  burial,  this  object  lesson  of  love  and  duty 
for  Christ's    sake,    this    victory    of    the    religion  of 
Jesus  over  the  mummery  and  fierce  orgies  of  heath- 
enism.    And  yet  as  the   hymn  of   faith  continued, 
as  the  sinking    sun    shone    in    the    western    sky,  it 
seemed  as  if  these  poor  children  were  but  voicing 
the  doom  of  "passing  away"  just  as  the  sun  was 
sinking.     The  emblem  of  all  these  tribes  of  red  men 
is  the  setting  sun. 

Soon  their  race  will  be  completed,  soon  the  last 
of  them  will  have  departed  forever 

"  In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter." 
The   Chippewas   bury   their   dead    in    almost   any 
convenient  place,    often    directly    in  front    of  their 
cabin  door  so  that  in  stepping  out  one  has  almost 
to  step   upon   a   grave.     Before   placing   a  body   in 
the  grave,  if  no  coffin  has  been  provided,  it  is  care- 
fully wrapped  in  great  pieces  of  birch  bark  such 


121 


as  they  use  in  building  their  canoes  and  summer 
camps,  or  it  is  enveloped  in  one  or  more  of  their 
beautiful  mats,  of  the  finest  texture  obtainable. 
Over  the  grave  a  long  low  house  is  built,  about  two 
feet  high,  and  under  the  front  or  western  gable  a 
little  square  window  is  placed. 

"The  old  heathen  burial  customs  of  my  own 
people,"  writes  that  old  hero  and  Indian  Saint, 
Emmengalibowh,  "were  that  when  one  dies  the  body 
is  well  dressed,  combed  well,  the  hair  and  face 
painted,  a  new  blanket  wrapped  around  his  body, 
a  new  shirt  and  leggings  and  a  new  coat  put  on  him 
and  new  moccasins,  everything  in  wearing  apparel 
all  well  provided.  This  being  done,  well  prepared 
to  take  the  body  to  the  grave  already  prepared, 
when  the  body  is  put  down  to  the  ground,  a  gun, 
powder  horn  and  war  club  or  tomahawk,  scalping 
knife,  small  kettle,  and  small  dish  and  spoon,  and 
fire-making  implements  are  among  the  things  put 
in  with  the  body  into  the  ground.  As  they  are  tak- 
ing out  the  body  from  the  wigwam  the  Grand  Medi- 
cine Man  sings  a  devil  song  beating  the  drum  as 
they  bear  the  body  away  towards  the  grave.  The 
body  is  all  covered  and  just  before  another  song, 
one  of  the  braves  arises  on  his  feet  and  says:  'My 
friend,  you  will  not  feel  lonely  while  pursuing  your 
journey  toward  the  setting  sun;  I  have  killed 
a  Sioux  (hereditary  enemies  of  the  Ojibways)  and 
scalped  him,  he  will  accompany  you,  and  the  scalp 
I  have  taken,  use  it  for  your  moccasin.'  The  Grand 
Medicine  Man  then  says  after  covering  the  grave: 
'Do  not  look  back,  but  look  towards  your  journey, 
towards  the  setting  sun.  Let  nothing  disturb  you 
or  cause  you  to  look  away  from  your  path.     Go  in 

122 


peace.'  Then  another  medicine  man  and  all  the 
medicine  men  speak  thus :  '  I  walk  peacefully,  I  walk 
on  peacefully,  for  my  long  journey  of  life,  soon  to 
reach  the  end  of  my  journey,  soon  to  reach  my 
friends  who  have  gone  before  me.'  The  song  com- 
pleted, all  the  grand  medicine  men  with  one  loud 
voice  cry  out: 

'  Meh-ga-kuh-nuh 
Meh-ga-huh-nuh  (amen-amen).' 

Then  all  disperse  and  the  weird  and  melancholy 
and  wonderfully  pathetic  ceremony   is  completed." 

What  ritual  in  any  other  tongue  could  be  more 
appropriately  funereal  or  more  typical  of  future 
life  beyond  the  grave?  Surely  Christianity  need  not 
wait  long  with  the  precious  message  for  which  these 
our  noble  aborigines  seem  more  than  ready. 

Emmengahbowh  also  writes  me  that,  "When  a 
great  warrior  is  killed  in  battle  and  while  the  battle 
is  raging,  the  hottest  battle,  the  battle  ceases  at 
once.  The  warrior  is  carried  away  from  the  battle- 
field to  a  short  distance.  Here  the  warriors  are 
making  preparations  to  dress  him  in  style  with  all 
his  best  clothing  they  could  find.  First  washed  his 
face  and  combed  his  hair,  hair  braided  down  to  his 
shoulders,  painted  his  face  with  red  paint,  a  new 
shirt,  a  new  coat  and  new  leggings  put  on  it.  A 
new  blanket  wrapped  about  him  and  a  beautiful  sash 
around  his  waist.  This  being  done  and  completed 
he  is  taken  to  the  battle-field  and  placed  him  on  the 
most  conspicuous  place  and  position  and  always  pre- 
ferred to  find  a  high  knoll.  Here  he  is  placed  in  a 
sitting  position.  A  gim  placed  before  him  in  the 
attitude  of  shooting,  a  war  club  and  scalping  knife 
put  on   about   him.     Feathers   on   his   head   waving 

123 


beautifully,  each  feather  indicates  a  scalp  taken  in 
battle.  This  being  done,  sometimes  the  warriors 
watched  the  body  one  or  two  days.  The  enemy 
knows  it  well  that  a  great  warrior  had  been  slain 
in  battle  and  they  know  it  well  too  that  they  would 
not  carry  him  away.  Must  be  buried  near  about 
the  battle-field  or  may  be  found  in  sitting  posture. 
Sure  enough  finding  him  in  sitting  posture.  Here 
the  warriors  with  all  the  swiftness  they  can  com- 
mand run.  The  fast  runner  of  course  touches  the 
head  first  and  count  one  of  the  highest  trophy 
among  the  heathen  warriors,  and  counted  a  feather 
for  his  head." 

Occasionally  as  of  old  the  Chippewas  bury  their 
dead  in  a  strong  box  placed  in  public  view  upon 
a  scaffold,  with  four  strong  posts.  Many  moons 
come  and  go  before  the  graves  are  neglected.  Every 
now  and  then  the  best  cooked  food  is  brought  that 
the  faithful  friends  can  obtain.  These  offerings 
are  reverently  laid  upon  grave  or  coffin.  When 
the  Indian  reaches  his  final  destiny  in  the  "happy 
hunting  grounds,"  his  life  is  perfectly  secure  and 
his  everlasting  felicity  assured.  "It  is  not  true 
that  the  Ojibways  believe  in  transmigration,  neith- 
er do  I  know  of  any  tribe  which  does,"  says  good 
old  Emmengahbowk.  ' '  Transmigration  of  souls  from 
men  to  animals!  No  such  horrible  faith  entertained 
by   my   people.     Some   pale-faces   may  believe   it!" 

Emmengahbowk  has  faithfully  taught  his  beloved 
Chippewas  the  creed  of  the  pale-face  teachers,  the 
good  Bishop  Whipple  has  sent  to  them,  not  the  least 
of  which  is,  I  believe,  "in  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead." 

A  very  interesting  letter  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peake, 

124 


for  some  time  a  missionary  among  the  Ojibways,  con- 
tains the  following: 

"I  myself  first  observed  the  Indian  life  while  I 
was  a  student  at  Nashotah  (Wisconsin),  seeing  some 
families  (Chippewas)  as  they  went  through  the 
state  gipsy-like  in  1852. 

"In  1853  I  saw  the  Oneidas  at  Duck  Creek  and 
preached  to   them  through   an   interpreter,   meeting 
also    some    of    the    Mohawks.     In    1856    I    saw    the 
Sioux  and  Winnebagoes  of  the  Minnesota  River  Val- 
ley.    In  1856  I  went  with  my  bride  (Miss  Augusta 
Parker  of  Delhi,  N.  Y.)  to  live  among  the  Ojibways 
or  Chippewas  at  Gull  Lake,  and  was  with  them  as 
their  missionary  at  Gull  Lake  and  Crow  Wing  for 
six  years,  and  during  the  Sioux  outbreak  of  1862." 
Concerning  the  mortuary  customs  Mr.  Peake  writes: 
"In  winter  when  the  ground  is  frozen  the  northern 
tribes,  among  whom  I  served,  wrap  up  their  dead 
in  the    furs    of    animals    and    place    them    in  the 
branches  of  high  trees."     Mr.   Peake  saw  them  so 
placed  in  January,  1856,  on  the  right  bajik  of  the 
Minnesota  river  on  his  first  trip  up  the  valley.     ''I 
have   seen   similar  placing  of   the   dead   on   a  high 
scaffold  or  platform  at  Red  Lake  (Chippewa  Agen- 
cy,   Minnesota)    as    late    as    1889."     Usually    they 
(the  Chippewas)     bury    their    dead    in  the  ground 
and  wrap  them  in  cotton  or  such  other  cloth  as  they 
may  have.     The  body  is  carefully  covered  with  birch 
bark  in  wide  strips.     Over  the  grave  they  usually 
build  a  roof  of  boards  if  they  can  obtain  the  neces- 
sary lumber.     Just  below  the  gable  they  have  a  little 
open  window  in  the  front  which  stands  towards  the 
west  (the  setting  sun).     "At  the  open  window  they 
deposit   food   for   the   departed   spirits   which   soon 

125 


disappears,  and  it  is  supposed  to  have  afforded  nour- 
ishment for  the  dead  upon  their  journeyings. "  Mr. 
Peake  has  noted  these  graves  also  at  Gull  Lake  and 
at  Crow  Wing. 

A  letter  from  the  Crow  Agency,  Montana,  informs 
me  that  the  Crows  bury  their  dead  with  the  feet 
toward  the  rising  sun.  Several  valuable  illustrations 
of  mortuary  customs  peculiar  to  this  interesting 
race  of  aborigines  are  presented  herewith. 

From  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Clark,  missionary  at  the 
Rosebud  Agency  (Sioux),  information  with  inter- 
esting illustrations  has  been  received. 

Mr.  Clark  states  that  when  an  Indian  is  thought 
to  be  dying  his  hair  is  combed  and  oiled  and  dressed 
as  nicely  as  possible,  the  face  is  painted  with  Vermil- 
lion and  a  new  suit  of  clothing  is  provided  if  pos- 
sible, consisting  of  blanket,  leggings,  moccasins,  etc. 
All  this  may  be  attended  to  hours  or  even  days  be- 
fore death  actually  occurs.  The  bodies  of  the  dead 
are  not  washed.  After  some  "hours,  or  a  day's 
time,  the  body  is  borne  to  a  platform  or  to  a  high 
hill-top,  or,  in  case  of  a  little  child,  to  a  large  tree, 
where  it  is  placed  in  the  branches.  Occasionally  a 
child's  body  was  laid  in  the  river-side.  The  body 
was  usually  wrapped  in  a  parfieche  case  or  a  home- 
tanned  rol)e  or  skin,  the  best  to  be  had  at  the  time, 
when  placed  on  platform  or  hill  or  in  tree,  etc. 
Immediately  on  being  placed  for  its  final  rest  the 
ghost  must  be  fed.  So  a  kettle  of  coffee  or  tea  and 
a  dish  of  meat  and  other  foods  were  placed  beneath 
or  beside  the  body.  The  bag  of  tobacco  and  pipe 
were  not  omitted.  Wliatcver  fine  clothing,  ouna- 
ments,  weapons,  or  furnishings  the  deceased  had 
highly  esteemed,  must  go  Avith  the  body.     The   fa- 


126 


vorite  pony,  too,  must  be  killed  beside  the  body  of 
the  dead." 

"There  was  one  case  in  which  the  Indians  always 
buried  the  dead:  When  two  people  of  the  same 
camp,  neighbors  or  relatives,  quarrelled  and  one  was 
killed  the  dead  was  buried  face  down  and  with  a 
piece  of  fat  between  the  teeth,  otherwise,  they  said, 
all  the  game  would  be  scared  out  of  the  country. 
As  the  Indians  became  Christianized  these  customs 
change  or  are  dropped,  though  progress  that  way 
is  slow.  On  the  death  of  a  friend  all  begin  mourn- 
ing. The  hair  is  cut  short  at  the  neck.  Both  men 
and  women  slash  their  bodies  and  limbs  with  knives 
and  often  put  sticks  or  thongs  through  the  wounds 
as  in  the  old  sun-dance  ceremony.  The  mourners, 
the  chief  ones,  go  off  to  the  hill-tops  and  mourn, 
perhaps  for  days.  Christian  Indians  now  dress  in 
black,  bury  dead  as  we  do  in  graves,  buying 
coffins  or  getting  them  in  some  way  and  form,  but 
as  yet  have  not  wholly  given  up  the  formal 
mourning  at  the  graves  on  the  hill-top.  There  is 
a  custom  which  they  call  'Keeping  the  Ghost.'  If 
a  man  is  very  ambitious  to  be  accounted  thereafter 
a  good  and  just  man  he  takes  some  little  article,  a 
ring,  a  lock  of  hair,  etc.,  which  belonged  to  the  de- 
ceased relative  and  wraps  it  up  like  a  little  mummy, 
binds  it  to  a  stick  and  plants  it  near  his  door.  lie 
keeps  the  ground  swept  about  it  and  frequently 
places  food  and  tobacco  there,  no  matter  who  helps 
the  ghost  dispose  of  these  things.  He  now  also 
gathers  horses  and  other  property  for  the  Ghost- 
lodge  which  he  will  set  up  after  a  year  or  so  for 
a  grand  feast  and  give-away  to  all  comers.  After 
the  affair  of  the  Ghost-lodge  this  man  must  be  care- 

127 


ful  in  words  and  deeds  to  sustain  his  reputation 
as  a  just  and  good  man  which  he  has  thus  built  up 
for  himself." 

Mr.  Clark  writes  further,  that  there  are  none  of 
the  old-time  "platform"  or  scaffold  burial-places 
near  here.  In  some  illustrations  we  may  note  the  "in- 
termediate stage,"  bodies  placed  in  boxes  of  some 
sort  (in  one  case  a  trunk  is  shown.)  These  bodies 
are  left  unburied  at  the  "Place  of  the  Ghosts." 
Heavy  stones  are  placed  upon  and  around  them  to 
prevent  the  wind  and  the  wolves  from  disturbing 
them.     Mr.  Clark  writes: 

"I  have  frequent  appeals  for  lumber  to  make 
plain  coffins  and  most  often  decline  giving  aid  for 
want  of  one  board  to  spare  for  the  purpose.  It 
gives  one  a  pang  of  regret  when  we  see  the  body  of 
a  child  has  been  placed  in  a  second-hand  trunk  or 
that  a  lumber-wagon  box  has  been  made  over  into 
a  coffin  for  a  Christian  Indian  rather  than  go  back 
to  the  old  way." 

"The  Christian  Indians  frequently  are  found  to 
have  placed  the  baptismal  certificates,  prayer-books 
and  hymnals  in  their  children's  coffins.  As  they 
become  able  they  buy  tombstones  to  be  erected  at 
the  head  of  the  graves." 

In  Colonel  Inman's  Great  Salt  Lake  Trail  is  found 
the  following  account  of  a  funeral  of  a  Bruhl  In- 
dian chief: 

"The  corpse  of  the  deceased  chief  was  brought 
to  the  fort  by  his  relatives  with  a  request  that  the 
whites  should  assist  at  his  burial.  A  scaffold  was 
erected  for  the  reception  of  the  body  which  in  the 
meantime  had  been  fitted  for  its  last  airy  tenement. 
The  duty  was  performed  in  the  following  manner: 

128 


It  was  first  wa«hed,  then  arrayed  iu  the  habiliments 
last  worn  by  the  deceased  during  life,  and  sewed  in 
several  envelopes  of  lodge-skin  with  his  bows  and 
arrows  and  pipe.  This  done,  all  things  were  ready 
for  the  proposed  burial.  The  corpse  was  borne  to 
its  final  resting-place  followed  by  a  throng  of  rela- 
tives and  friends.  While  moving  onward  with  the 
dead  the  train  of  mourners  filled  the  air  with  lamen- 
tations and  rehearsals  of  the  virtues  and  meritorious 
deeds  of  their  late  chief." 

"Arrived  at  the  scaffold  the  corpse  was  carefully 
reposed  upon  it  facing  the  east,  while  beneath  its 
head  was  placed  a  small  sack  of  meat,  tobacco,  and 
Vermillion.  A  covering  of  scarlet  cloth  was  then 
spread  over  it  and  the  body  firmly  lashed  to  its 
place  by  long  strips  of  rawhide.  This  done  the  horse 
of  the  chieftain  was  produced  as  a  sacrifice  for  the 
benefit  of  his  master  in  his  long  journey  to  the  cel- 
estial hunting  grounds." 

Such  is  a  short  and  necessary  imperfect  account 
of  some  of  the  burial  customs  of  our  noble  aborig- 
ines, the  North  American  Indians.  If  we  read  aright 
the  lessons  the  simple  earnest  lives  of  these  people 
teach  us,  we  shall  be  better  and  truer  men  and  wor- 
ship more  reverently  the  God  of  the  red  man  and 
of  the  pale-face,  the  "Heavenly  Father"  of  us  all, 
white  or  red,  black  or  yellow.  We  are  his  children 
and  He  the  loving  parent. 


129 


THE   RELIGIOUS   CHARACTER   OF 

THE  NORTH  AMERICAN 

INDIANS. 


This  contribution  which  I  offer  concerning  Indian 
religious  character  is  more  in  the  nature  of  homage 
for  a  people  who  have  by  their  manly  sincerity  won 
my  affection ;  otherwise,  there  is  very  little  which  is 
new.  The  works  of  Parkman,  Catlin,  Inman,  not 
to  mention  the  rich  archives  of  our  great  Smith- 
sonian Institution  to  which  so  many  well-known 
authorities  have  contributed,  would  make  my  few 
words  seem  infinitesimal  had  I  other  excuse  for  pre- 
senting them.  I  have  known  the  Indians  since  when 
in  my  boyhood  days  I  rode  the  saddle  with  the  gal- 
lant "long  knives"  of  the  dear  old  3rd  U.  S.  Cav- 
alry. I  have  met  many  tribes  since  then,  but  dearer 
to  me  than  any  other  are  my  Christian  friends  of 
the  Ojibway^si — warriors,  oratorsi,  farmeirs,  fathers, 
mothers,  but  all  the  "children  of  the  same  Father!" 

Their  religious  character  is  one  of  their  most  con- 
spicuous traits,  and  we  are  bound  to  acknowledge 
and  respect  them  for  it.  A  people  devout,  and  with 
a  strong  and  genuine  belief  in  the  "Great  Spirit," 
in  the  "Mighty  Creator,"  in  the  "loving  attentive 
Father" — a  people  devoted  to  their  country,  to 
their  nation,  to  their  homes  (humble  though  they  be), 


130 


to  their  families,  and  whose  love  for  their  children 
is  beautiful  beyond  description, — such  a  people  dem- 
onstrate beyond  a  doubt  that  their  religion  is  prac- 
tical, genuine,  and  worthy  of  recognition.  These 
people  are  an  inspiration  to  the  palefaces  who  have 
met  them! 

When  I  asked  my  brave  old  friend  Emmengah- 
bowh  the  beloved  Indian  priest  of  the  Episcopal 
Mission  at  White  Earth,  Minnesota,  what  actuated 
him  in  risking  his  life  to  save  the  paleface  women 
and  children  from  capture  and  death,  he  replied: 
"They  have  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  could  not  bear 
to  have  them  harmed,  and  it  was  my  duty  as  a 
Christian."  Can  a  man  do  more  than  risk  or  give 
his  life  for  his  friends? 

The  great  good  friend  of  the  Indian,  whom  they 
call  Straight-tongue,  in  his  interesting  book.  The 
Lights  and  Shadows  of  a  Long  Episcopate,  refers 
to  his  faithful  priest  Emmengahbowk : 

"The  wily  chief  IIole-in-the-Day  had  planned  for 
a  massacre  at  the  same  time  on  the  northern  bor- 
der. But  Emmengahbowh  had  sent  a  faithful  mes- 
senger to  Mille  Sacs,  to  urge  the  Indians  to  be  true 
to  the  whites  and  to  send  men  to  protect  the  fort. 
More  than  a  hundred  Mille  Sacs  warriors  went  at 
once  to  the  fort,  but  meantime  Emmengahbowk 
himself  walked  all  night  down  Gull  River,  dragging 
a  canoe  containing  his  wife  and  children,  that  he 
might  give  warning  to  the  fort.  Two  of  his  children 
died  from  the  exposure.  Messages  were  also  sent 
to  the  white  settlers,  and  before  IIole-in-the-Day 
could  begin  war  the  massacre  was  averted. 

"I  have  never  known  an  Atheist  among  the  North 
American  Indians.     They  believe  unquestionably  in 


181 


a  future  life.  They  believe  that  everything  in  na- 
ture— the  laughing  water-fall,  the  rock,  the  sky,  the 
forest — contains  a  divinity,  and  all  mysteries  are  ac- 
counted for  by  these  spirits,  which  they  call  manidos. 
When  they  first  saw  a  telegraph  they  said :  "  A  spirit 
carries  a  message  on  the  wires." 

"The  Ojibways  are  not  idolaters,  they  never  bow 
down  nor  worship  any  created  thing.  They  have 
preserved  a  tradition  of  one  Supreme  God  whom  they 
call  " Gitche-manito ' — the  'Uncreated,'  or  the  kind, 
cherishing  Spirit.  They  believe  that  the  Grand  Med- 
icine was  given  them  by  an  intermediate  deity,  the 
'Grand  Medicine-God.'  "* 

When  an  Indian  is  thought  to  be  at  the  point  of 
death,  his  friends  and  relatives  make  careful  prep- 
aration and  nothing  is  omitted  to  insure  an  honor- 
able funeral  ceremony.  The  dying  Indian's  hair 
is  combed  and  oiled  and  braided,  and  he  is  dressed 
in  his  best  clothing;  if  possible  a  new  suit  is  pro- 
vided— new  blankets,  leggings,  and  moccasins.  His 
face  is  painted  red  (vermillion).  It  may  be  an  hour, 
a  day,  or  many  days,  before  death  takes  place,  but 
he  is  made  ready  for  the  final  event  with  scrupulous 
care  and  attention  in  every  detail. 

"Indians  are  at  all  times  prayerful  and  careful 
in  their  religious  observances,  but  they  are  never 
more  scrupulous  about  these  matters  than  when 
starting  on  the  war-path."**  Those  whom  they  have 
left  behind  pray  for  them  at  camp.  The  parents  un- 
wrap their  sacred  bundles  and  sing  their  sacred 
songs.     Before  eating,  the    warrior    prays    for    the 

*Bishop  Whipple,  Lights  and  Shadoxvs. 
**Griunell. 


132 


success  of  his  undertaking.  He  must  seek  his  suc- 
cess from  Diety;  without  divine  aid  his  task  is  hope- 
less, he  can  accomplish  nothing.  Each  man  is  in- 
structed before  he  sleeps  to  offer  up  his  petition  for 
strength  and  help  and  victory.  The  leader  must 
offer  his  sacrifice  for  the  command  as  well  as  for 
himself.  Oftentimes  the  Indians  continue  all  night 
in  prayer,  and  burn  incense  of  sweet  pine  and 
sweet  grass  to  purify  themselves.  Often  he  offers 
sacrifices  of  food,  tobacco,  ornaments,  some  of  his 
own  hair,  a  scalp  lock,  or  even  a  portion  of  his  own 
flesh.  He  makes  use  of  scourging  and  of  inci- 
sions into  his  flesh,  often  causing  sharp  haemorrhage, 
and  even  fiery  coals  are  placed  upon  his  naked  skin 
to  strengthen  his  powers  of  endurance  and  of  self- 
control. 

The  Indians  believe  that  when  the  spirit  reaches 
its  final  destination,  the  great  country,  the  Happy 
Hunting-ground,  the  final  life-everlasting  is  forever 
and  peacefully  attained! 

He  forgets  not  his  dead,  this  North  American  In- 
dian, but  often,  not  only  once  a  year  as  on  our  All 
Souls'  Day,  but  more  frequently,  they  hold  their 
rude  commemorative  ceremonies,  and  contribute 
from  their  slender  means  the  best  feast  they  can 
produce.  Nor  does  this  charity  extend  to  the  dead 
alone ;  he  is  peculiarly  tender  in  his  love  for  children, 
for  the  infirm,  for  the  demented,  the  wounded  and 
the  dying.  If  compassion  is  the  test  of  true  religion, 
the  Indian  deserves  respect.  Tales  of  his  barbarity 
are  in  the  excitement  of  war;  but  how  tame  our  In- 
dians appear  when  compared  with  the  cruel  Chinese! 

The  Grand  Medicine  Man  at  the  funeral  ceremonies 


133 


says   in   his   address   to   the   departed   spirit,    as  he 
kindly  spreads  over  the  corpse  the  blanket: 

"Do  not  look  back,  but  look  to  your  journey 
towards  the  setting  sun.  Let  nothing  disturb  or 
distract  you  or  cause  you  to  look  away  from  your 
journey's  path — Go — Go,  in  peace!" 

Then  another  medicine  man  repeats  this;  then  all 
in  unison  sing  these  words: 

"  I  walk  on  peacefully  for  my  long  journey  of  life, 

Soon,  soon  to  reach  the  end  of  my  journey, 

Soon  to  reach  my  friends  who  have  gone  before  me." 

When  this  chant  is  ended,  the  Grand  Medicine  Man 

calls  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  Nuh-gah-kuk-nuw 
Nuh-gah-kuk-nuw." 

"An  Indian  burial  is  most  touching.  If  of  a 
child,  the  mother  places  the  play-things  of  the  little 
one  in  the  birch-bark  coffin,  and  strews  flowers  in 
the  grave.  She  then  makes  an  image  of  the  baby, 
ornamenting  the  head  with  feathers,  and  carries  it 
with  her  for  one  year.  If  of  a  chief  or  warrior,  the 
body  is  arrayed  as  if  for  the  chase  or  war-path  with 
bows  and  arrow^s  and  medicine-bag  by  his  side.  The 
favorite  dog  is  killed,  that  it  may  accompany  him  on 
his  journey.  The  orator  of  the  band  then  addresses 
the  silent  figure,  telling  of  his  deeds  of  bravery,  of 
how  he  pursued  his  enemies  and  brought  back  their 
scalps,  of  his  wise  words  of  counsel  and  acts  of  kind- 
ness, and  how  having  left  this  world  for  the  Happy 
Hunting-grounds,  he  will  find  the  trail  a  narrow 
one,  and  will  be  tempted  by  evil  spirits  to  turn 
aside,  but  that  he  must  be  deaf,  for  if  he  stops  to 
listen  he  will  miss  the  trail  and  be  lost. ' ' 


134 


Lt.  Totteu  of  the  United  States  army  believed  our 
North  American  Indians  to  be  the  descendants  of 
the  lost  tribes  of  Israel.  A  recent  article  in  the 
Springfield  Republican  of  January  12th,  1913,  en- 
titled "American  Indians  from  Asia"  seems  to 
confirm  this  idea.  Certainly  their  traditions  point 
to  the  region  of  Behring's  Strait  as  the  place 
from  whence  they  came  and  whither  they  are 
wending.  But  whether  their  customs  and  their  be- 
liefs are  merely  human  nature,  showing  out  in  red- 
skin as  well  as  in  paleface,  there  is  a  startling  sim- 
ilarity in  Indian  laws  of  hygiene,  of  cleanliness,  and 
customs  of  the  men  and  women,  to  say  nothing  of 
their  reverence  for  the  Gireat  and  Sacred  Name, 
which  suggest  Israelitish  origin.  And  the  "Chosen 
Race"  need  not  be  ashamed  of  them!  The  attitude 
of  worship,  the  bowed  head,  the  instantly  extended 
palms  when  the  sacred  Diety  is  referred  to,  are 
surely  remarkable.  What  other  Aborigines  are  so 
devout  and  sincere,  so  brave  in  suffering,  so  fear- 
less in  battle,  so  loving  to  children,  so  faithful  in 
friendship,  so  unselfish,  and  so  true? 

The  Indian's  heaven  we  know  as  his  happy  hunt- 
ing-grounds— a  country  of  wide  green  and  cool, 
clear  streams,  where  the  buffalo  and  other  game  are 
always  plenty  and  fat,  where  the  lodges  (tepees)  are 
ever  new  and  white,  the  ponies  always  swift,  the  war 
parties  successful,  and  the  people  happy. 

Sometimes  the  Indian,  "When  the  slanting  rays 
of  the  Western  sun  tinge  the  autumnal  haze  with 
red,  beholds  dimly  far  away  the  white  lodges  of 
such  a  happy  camp  and  sees  thro'  the  mist  and  dust 
ghostly  warriors  returning  from  the  hunt,   leading 


135 


horses  as  in  olden  times,  with  dripping  meat  and 
with  shaggy  skins."* 

This  happy  land  is  usually  located  above  the  sky, 
but  with  many  tribes  it  is  to  the  west  beyond  the 
Gitclie  giimmee,  the  Big  Sea  Water.  But  wherever 
the  home  of  the  "Almighty  Creator,"  the  "Great 
Spirit,"  may  be,  his  Indian  children  love  best  to 
call  him  by  the  endearing  title  of  "Father."  Al- 
though called  by  this  name  which  the  Saviour  taught 
His  followers  to  utter,  whether  of  the  white,  the 
yellow,  the  black,  or  the  red  peoples,  the  Indian  re- 
gards this  "Father"  as  omnipotent,  beneficent,  the 
Supreme  Ruler.  Everything  is  within  His  'Holy 
Keeping,  just  as  wc  have  been  taught  that  no  spar- 
row falls  to  the  ground  without  our  Heavenly  Fath- 
er's consent.** 

Resting  upon  His  Fatherhood,  nothing  is  under- 
taken without  praying  for  His  assistance.  When 
the  pipe  is  lighted,  a  few  whiffs  are  blown  upwards 
as  incense.  Some  of  the  food  is  sacrificed  to  Him. 
Burnt  offerings  are  still  continued  in  His  honor,  a 
part  of  the  first  deer,  the  first  buffalo,  and  we  might 
almost  expect  to  find  their  rule  in  the  words  of  the 
Bible — "Whatever  we  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God." 
The  words  may  be  absent,  but  the  practice  is  there. 

"Father  above"  is  the  counterpart  of  "Our  Fath- 
er who  art  in  Heaven,"  for  do  they  not  say,  "Father 
who  is  in  all  places,"  "The  Heavens  are  Thy  house; 
we.  Thy  children,  live  within  (or  beneath)  ?" 

"Father  of  the  dead,  You  see  us." 

If  the  Indians  have  other    gods,    they    use    them 

*Grinnell.  **St.  Matthew  x.  29. 

136 


merely  by  praying  to  them,  "intercede  for  us," 
"pray  for  us"  to  the  God,  the  "Heavenly  Father." 

Atius  Tirana  is  Father  Spirit.  The  Indian  blows 
the  first  four  smokes  to  Atius,  then  four  to  the 
earth,  then  four  to  each  of  the  cardinal  points. 

The  young  warrior  is  advised :  ' '  My  son,  when  thou 
smokest  in  thy  pipe,  always  blow  four  smokes  to 
the  east, — to  the  night."  The  Indian  regards  the 
east  as  the  place  of  night,  it  comes  from  the  east! 

The  Indian  is  taught  that  he  must  offer  sacrifices 
and  burnt  offerings  to  the  Almighty — humbling  him- 
self and  imploring  His  aid — if  he  would  attain  suc- 
cess in  the  world  or  in  the  life  ^'everlasting.''^  The 
Indian  states  his  belief  in  his  prayer:  "My  Father 
who  dwelleth  in  Heaven  and  in  all  places,  it  is 
through  You  that  I  am  living;"  and  it  is  the  equiv- 
alent of  our  "In  Him  we  live  and  have  our  being." 

Longfellow,  in  Hiawatha,  has  beautifully  told  the 
story  of  Indian  worship  and  belief.  Pathetic  be- 
yond description  is  the  tender,  loving  care  bestowed 
upon  the  dead, — the  solemn  service,  the  sweet  hymns, 
the  birch-covered  coffin,  the  hemlock-lined  grave,  the 
gentle  depositing  of  the  earth,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  the  little  sheltering  house  above  with  its  small 
window  and  the  cross  of  hope  rising  from  its  eastern 
gable. 

How  beautiful  in  Longfellow's  Hiawatha  is  the 
picture  of  the  Indian's  Heavenly  Father,  the  Al- 
mighty Creator.  One  picture  in  Plis  majesty  touch- 
ing the  mountains,  and  the  other, 

"Gitche  Manitou,  the  Mighty, 
The  creator  of  the  nations, 
Looked  upon  them  with  compassion. 
With  paternal  love  and  pity." 

And  then  the  poet  tells  in  his  matchless  verse  such 


137 


a  story  of  Indian  belief  in  tlie  Almighty  Creator 
that  one  feels  as  if  the  Indians  should  send  mission- 
aries to  the  palefaces! 

Surely,  a  people  with  no  "cuss"  words,  and  who 
never  mention  the  name  of  Deity  except  in  reverence, 
and  with  bowed  heads  and  palms  extended  outward, 
are  justly  entitled  to  respect.  It  is  indeed  inspir- 
ing to  see  these  people  we  call  savages  going  with 
their  humble  petitions  to  their  Heavenly  Father, 
pleading  for  help  in  their  distress  when  all  earthly 
help  has  failed. 

"Gitche  Manitou,  the  Mighty, 
Cried  he  with  his  face  uplifted 
In  that  bitter  hour  of  anguish, 
Give  your  children  food,  O  Father, 
Give  us  food,  or  we  must  perish." 

This  prayer  from  the  Famine  is  one  of  Longfel- 
low's greatest  pictures  in  his  unrivalled  collection. 
The  poem  of  Hiawatha  is  best  appreciated  by  those 
who  know  the  Indian.  The  "parting"  is  a  picture 
with  which  to  close  our  quotation.  "Westward, 
Westward,"  is  the  word  ever  on  their  lips,  so  mourn- 
ful and  so  prophetic. 

"Thus  departed  Hiawatha, 
Hiawatha  the  Beloved, 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home-wind 
Of  the  north-west  wind  Kee-way-din, 
To  the  islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter." 


138 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  HIAWATHA. 


The  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  America  from  the 
earliest  times  have  been  known  as  Indians,  and  to 
the  Indians  the  white  people  are  known  as  Pale 
Faces.  Very  commonly  our  ideas  of  the  Indians  are 
limited;  we  speak  of  them  in  a  general  sense,  los- 


*The  Song  of  Hiawatha  has  called  forth  praise  from  schol- 
ars and  ridicule  from  pessimists.  It  has  been  laughed  at  and 
parodied  until  even  its  wondrous  beauty  and  faithful  imagery 
have  been  well-nigh  lost  sight  of. 

Beyond  a  peradventure  nothing  exists  in  the  English  lan- 
guage presenting  such  a  faithful  portrayal  of  North  American 
Indian  life,  unless  we  except  the  classical  works  of  McKinney 
and  Catliu,  or  the  more  recent  work  of  that  soldier  and  scholar, 
Colonel  Dodge  of  the  U.  S.  Army.  Hiawatha  was  a  Chippewa 
brave,  and  no  history  of  his  nation  would  be  complete  without 
reference  to  this  wonderful  poem.  The  traditions  and  Indian 
language  which  Longfellow  uses  are  Ojibway.  The  history  of 
this  great  nation,  like  that  of  other  Indian  tribes,  has  been 
treasured  as  traditionary  lore,  and  has  been  passed  on  from 
age  to  age  in  the  narratives  of  old  sages  to  the  listening  throngs 
around  them— at  the  war-dance,  in  the  council,  or  at  the  wig- 
wam fire  : 

"  Should  you  ask  me  whence  these  stories, 

Whence  these  legends  and  traditions, 

With  the  odor  of  the  forest, 

With  the  dew  and  damp  of  meadows, 

With  the  curling  smoke  of  wigwams, 

With  the  rushing  of  great  rivers, 

With  the  frequent  repetitions 

And  their  wild  reverberations 

As  of  thunder  in  the  mountains, 

I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 

From  the  forest  and  the  prairies, 

From  the  great  lakes  of  the  Northland, 

From  the  land  of  the  Ojibways." 


139 


ing  sight  of  the  fact  that  there  are  over  two  hundred 
tribes  living  within  the  United  States. 

These  tribes  differ  as  widely  from  one  another  as 
the  tribes  or  nations  of  "Pale  Faces"  are  distinct 
from  each  other.  Whatever  the  North  American 
Indian  may  be,  he  is  certainly  not  what  many  of 
our  Eastern  people  are  willing  to  call  Indian.  He 
is  not  a  negro,  who  possesses  in  the  past  history  of 
his  family  a  trace  of  relationship  with  some  Indian 
of  more  or  less  pure  blood;  such  specimens  are 
seen  about  our  railway  stations  and  at  some  of  our 
summer  resorts,  selling  bead  and  basket  work,  and 
suggest  to  many  their  ideas  of  American  Indians. 
A  thorougbred  Indian  will  not  even  recogfnize  a 
half-breed  as  an  Indian.  With  them  a  half-breed 
is  no  better  than  a  squaw-man. 

Native  American  is  a  more  fitting  and  honorable 
name  for  the  people  who  inhabited  this  land  be- 
fore the  white  man  came.  Where  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  can  we  find  natives  to  be  compared  to 
them?  The  early  settlers  of  this  great  country,  in 
their  struggles  for  life  and  a  home,  gave  us  noth- 
ing but  fragmentary  sketches  of  the  nations  they 
came  in  conta,ct  with,  and  by  whom  they  were  near- 
ly overpowered  and  annihilated. 

Would  it  were  possible  to  collect  more  of  the  his- 
tory of  such  aborigines!  Much  indeed  of  their  his- 
tory and  tradition  has  passed  away,  and  when  we 
seek  for  records  of  the  nations  who  occupied  this 
great  continent,  comparatively  little  is  to  be  found. 
There  is,  however,  some  material  within  reach  to- 
day, and  opportunities  still  exist  to  obtain  speci- 
mens of  their  arms,  clothing,  implements,  etc.  But 
within  a  very  few  years  almost  every  remaining  ves- 


140 


tige  will  have  disappeared  forever.  That  compara- 
tive oblivion  should  be  the  destiny  of  such  remark- 
able nations  is  a  national  misfortune  for  us.  We 
have  a  right  to  be  proud  of  our  aborigines,  and  yet 
we  must  blush  with  shame  when  we  consider  how 
deeply  we  have  wronged  them. 

Whatever  the  Indian  has  been  in  the  past,  and  in 
spite  of  his  present  condition — deplorable  as  it  cer- 
tainly is — our  nation  has  still  some  time  left  to 
deal  with  these  people  honorably  and  justly,  as  it 
is  the  duty  of  a  God-fearing  people  to  do.  They 
will  respond  in  time,  but  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
if  they  seem  incredulous  at  first.  It  is  wicked  to 
condemn  them  as  beasts  fit  only  for  extermination; 
improve  them,  educate  them.  This  can  be  done  by 
dealing  justly  with  them.  No  w^ords  of  mine  can 
sufficiently  condemn  the  cowardly  saying,  "that 
the  only  good  Indian  is  a  dead  Indian!" 

An  Austrian  officer  once  said  to  me,  that  he 
considered  the  British  soldiers  the  bravest  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  because  "you  cannot  conquer 
them  or  whip  them,  you  must  kill  them."  It  is 
so  with  our  Indians,  they  neither  give  nor  ask  for 
quarter;  this  is  easily  understood  when  we  consider 
how  they  have  always  been  situated. 

It  has  been  with  them  a  war  for  life,  a  struggle 
for  existence,  and  disputes  have  always  been  settled 
man-fashion  on  the  field  of  battle. 

Those  who  know  most  about  our  native  American 
(our  so  called  Indians)  respect  them  most;  those 
who  have  lived  longest  with  them  love  them  most; 
the  most  brutal  and  cowardly  of  our  frontiersmen 
hate  them  most,  and  they  have  reason  to  do  so. 
Indian  character  is  contradictory.     They  are  brave 


141 


but  cautious  and  generous;  dashing  in  attack,  stub- 
born in  defence;  enduring,  stoical,  patient,  hardy; 
fond  of  feasting,  but  ready  for  days  of  marching 
and  fighting,  with  scarcely  any  nourishment;  alert, 
unforgiving  when  wronged;  revengeful,  cruel,  and 
treacherous  in  war;  loving  as  friends,  indulgent  and 
affectionate  as  parents;  sympathetic  in  adversity, 
eloquent  in  counsel;  by  nature  deeply  and  truly 
religious. 

Our  native  red  Americans,  unlike  those  of  New 
Mexico  and  Central  and  South  America,  are  be- 
lievers in  God,  although  they  call  Him  the  "Great 
Spirit."  They  are  absolutely  free  from  profanity 
and  hypocrisy.  In  short,  they  are  the  noblest  race 
of  aborigines  on  the  face  of  this  earth. 

My  experience  has  brought  me  in  contact  with 
many  different  Indian  nations,  both  in  peace  and 
war,  but  in  my  opinion  the  0  jib  ways  are  the  most 
interesting  for  investigation  and  study.  Doctor 
Hoffman,  lately  an  Acting  Assistant  Surgeon  of  the 
United  States  Army,  in  an  article  concerning  Sham- 
inistich  practices,  states  that  the  area  of  country 
formerly  occupied  by  the  immense  tribes,  consisting 
of  the  Algonquin  linguistic  stock,  extends  from 
Nova  Scotia  southward  to  the  James  River,  and  west- 
ward to  Montana. 

To  these  divisions  belong  the  tribes  first  met  with 
by  the  French  traders  in  Canada  as  early  as  1634, 
by  the  Puritans  in  Massachusetts,  and  by  Captain 
John  Smith's  band  of  colonists  in  Virginia.  They 
are  believed  to  be  considerably  in  advance  of  the 
tribes  of  most  other  divisions,  and  one  of  the  most 
interesting  bodies  from  an  ethnologic  point  of  view 

142 


is  the  Chippewa  or  0  jib  way  tribe,  of  the  Lake  Su- 
perior region. 

The  Chippewas  are  the  nearly  extinct  remnant  of 
the  great  Algonquin  family;  they  are  tall,  fine-look- 
ing, and  intelligent  men;  brave  and  fearless,  faith- 
ful in  friendship,  and  possessing  the  noblest  traits 
of  any  Indian  tribe.  Their  ancient  enemies  were 
the  Foxes,  Iroquois,  and  Sioux.  The  latter  they 
have  driven  from  the  head-waters  of  the  Mississippi 
River,  and  from  the  Red  River  of  the  North ;  always 
defeating  them  in  woody  countries,  though  often 
worsted  when  battling  them  on  the  plains.  Their 
home  has  been  in  the  forest  and  on  the  stream. 
They  have  been  experts  in  hunting,  fishing,  and 
canoe-building,  and  excel  in  woodcraft  generally. 

The  Chippewas  served  with  the  French  in  the 
early  wars  against  the  colonists,  and  afterwards  in 
the  Revolution,  as  allies  of  the  British.  It  is  only 
within  recent  years  that  the  interminable  war  be- 
tween them  and  their  hated  enemies,  the  Sioux,  has 
been  brought  to  an  end. 

In  1830  the  United  States  Government  endeavored 
to  arrest  the  existing  war  between  them,  and  in  1880 
the  hatchet  was  publicly  buried  forever. 

The  more  important  bands  of  the  Chippewas  were 
the  Otter  Tail,  Peminas,  Mississippi  Pillagers,  and 
Millacs.  The  manners,  customs,  traditions,  and  lan- 
guage of  the  Chippewas  have  been  investigated  by 
many,  and  they  are  better  known  than  those  of  any 
other  tribe. 

The  setting  sun  has  been  their  emblem  or  sign 
in  the  heavens,  as  they  have  journeyed  towards  its 
sinking  rays  along  the  St.  Lawrence  westward.  In- 
deed, the  setting  sun  has  been  for  all  the  Indians 


143 


a  sign  in  the  heavens,  for  they,  like  it,  must  fade 
away  from  human  sight.  It  does  seem  as  if  they 
were  worthier  of  a  better  fate. 

The  gayly  decked  trees  of  autumn  are  typical  of 
them — the  cold,  cruel  winds  of  winter  will  ruthlessly 
scatter  them;  the  icy  and  merciless  grasp  of  a  white 
man  will  crush  them — 

"  Like  the  cloud-rack  of  a  tempest, 
Like  the  withered  leaves  of  autumn." 

So  our  native  Americans  are  rapidly  fading  and 
passing  way.  Reduced  in  strength  and  influence, 
they  number  at  present  only  a  few  thousands  of 
comparatively  weak  and  inoffensive  families.  They 
recognize  the  inevitable  destiny  in  store  for  them; 
soon  the  sun  will  forever  set  upon  them  as  a  na- 
tion, soon  their  records  will  be  but  ancient  tradi- 
tions, soon  their  relics  will  be  but  the  few  scattered 
pieces  preserved  in  our  museums. 

Remnants  of  the  once  powerful  Chippewa  nation 
are  to  be  found  mostly  in  northern  Minnesota. 
Where  did  these  Indians  originate,  is  a  question 
which  has  often  been  asked,  but  never  answered 
with  any  degree  of  certainty.  It  seems  to  me  very 
clear  that  the  earliest  history  of  the  Ojibways  is 
to  be  found  in  the  region  of  the  Laurentian  hills, 
and  that  their  records  cover  the  ground  from  the 
St.  Lawrence  to  their  present  abiding-place. 

The  three  leading  reservations  are  at  White 
Earth,  Red  Lake,  and  Leech  Lake.  If  we  look  at 
the  map  of  the  North  American  continent,  and  place 
a  finger  as  nearly  as  possible  at  its  central  point, 
we  shall  find  that  we  are  very  near  Itasca  or  Holy 
Cross  Lake,  the  source  of  the  Mississippi  River,  and 


144 


iu  the  center  of  the  present  home  of  the  Chippewa 
Indians. 

The  land  is  fertile,  dotted  with  numberless  lakes, 
and  more  or  less  covered  with  valuable  timber.  It 
is  a  cold  country  in  winter,  the  temperature  going 
down  as  low  as  fifty-five  degrees  below  zero ;  for 
weeks  together  the  mercury  is  frozen.  In  summer, 
great  extremes  of  heat  are  reached;  often  it  is  as 
high  as  112  degrees  in  the  shade.  In  this  climate 
of  great  extremes,  with  shelter  none  too  good,  and 
food  of  the  poorest  quality,  and  very  often  with  in- 
sufficient clothing,  the  Chippewa  Indians  are  mak- 
ing an  effort  to  live. 

Unpromising  as  the  condition  is  at  present,  it  is 
infinitely  better  than  anyone  supposed  it  ever  could 
be  twenty  years  ago.  It  is  to  the  noble  and  unself- 
ish devotion  of  Christian  friends  that  the  Chippewas 
are  indebted  for  whatever  prosperity  they  may  at 
present  enjoy. 

Forty  years  ago  our  Indian  system  was  at  its 
worst.  "It  was  a  blunder  and  a  crime;  it  rec- 
ognized nomadic  tribes  as  independent  nations; 
it  destroyed  the  advisory  power  of  the  chiefs,  and 
gave  nothing  in  its  place;  it  recognized  no  personal 
rights  of  property;  it  gave  no  protection  to  person 
or  life;  it  punished  no  crime;  its  emoluments  were 
rewards  for  political  service;  and  most  of  the  trea- 
ties were  framed  to  use  the  Indian  as  a  key  to  un- 
lock the  public  treasury.  At  best,  it  was  heathen 
savagery. ' ' 

President  Lincoln  once  said  concerning  the  dis- 
graceful conduct  of  Indian  affairs,  "If  I  live,  this 
accursed  system  shall  be  reformed!"  One  thing 
tliat   must    be   evident   to    every   thinking    man    is. 


145 


that  our  governmental  mismanagement  has  been  the 
cause  of  great  wrong,  much  suffering,  and  other 
evils,  even  terminating  in  serious  bloodshed. 

The  present  outlook  is  gloomy  enough,  but  the 
silver  lining  of  the  cloud  is  the  work  of  Christian 
Missionaries,  and  in  this  work  the  Catholic  Church 
has  from  the  beginning,  even  until  now,  been  far  in 
the  lead.  One  great  stumbling-block  towards  suc- 
cess is  the  present  physical  condition  of  the  red  man. 
From  an  out-of-door  life  of  activity,  with  plenty 
of  fresh  game  and  wholesome  food  and  clear  water, 
with  a  healthful  tepee  for  his  home,  he  has  been 
placed  in  a  log-cabin,  overheated  with  iron  stoves, 
given  the  poorest  quality  of  flour  and  salted  meat, 
and  in  exchange  for  an  active  life,  one  of  idleness. 
Under  these  circumstances,  is  it  at  all  remarkable, 
if,  in  some  instances,  he  has  degenerated  mentally 
and  physically?  For  the  Indian,  as  well  as  for 
any  one  else,  idleness  can  act  only  as  a  serious  injury. 

The  recent  troubles  which  threatened  us  in  the 
northwestern  frontier  are  attributable  to  this  very 
cause.  In  idleness  the  Indian  recounts  the  stories 
of  his  ancestors'  battles,  and  makes  ready  for  an 
opportunity  to  emulate  their  prowess. 

Indian  treachery  can  only  hope  to  imitate,  never 
to  excel,  the  lessons  taught  by  the  white  man  in  his 
official  dealings  with  them.  They  have  been  robbed 
whenever  it  was  possible  to  impose  upon  them,  and 
I  fear  they  will  be,  until  none  are  left  on  whom  to 
impose. 

Bishop  Whipple  relates  an  incident  which  occured 
some  years  ago,  when  some  speculators  wished  to 
obtain  a  valuable  tract  of  land  belonging  to  the 
Chippewas.     Efforts  were  made  to  induce  them  to 


146 


sell  their  lauds  and  move  north  to  Leech  Lake ;  an 
agent  representing  the  Government  called  a  coun- 
cil, and  addressed  the  assembly  of  chiefs  somewhat 
after  this  fashion: 

"My  red  brothers,  your  great  Father  has  heard 
how  you  have  been  wronged;  He  said,  'I  will  send 
to  them  an  honest  man.'  He  looked  in  the  north 
and  the  south  and  the  east  and  the  west,  and  when 
He  saw  me,  He  said,  'this  is  the  honest  man  whom 
I  will  send  to  my  red  children.'  Brothers,  look  at 
me!  The  winds  of  fifty  years  have  blown  over  my 
head  and  silvered  it  with  gray,  and  in  all  this  time 
I  have  never  done  wrong  to  any  man.  Now,  as  your 
friend,  I  wish  you  to  sign  this  treaty."  One  of  the 
chiefs,  old  Shah-bah-shong,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
said,  "Pale-faced  friend,  look  at  me!  The  winds 
of  more  than  fifty  winters  have  blown  over  my  head, 
and  silvered  it  over  with  gray,  but  they  have  not 
Mown  away  my  brains."     The  council  was  ended. 

The  future  prospects  of  the  Indians  depend  en- 
tirely upon  the  wisdom  with  which  the  Government 
will  deal  with  them.  It  is  impossible  to  manage 
such  an  important  question  with  the  weak  and  in- 
adequate Indian  bureau  at  present  existing.  If,  as 
a  nation,  we  are  satisfied  that  the  Indians  deserve, 
and  should  receive  a  reasonable  amount  of  justice 
and  fair  dealing,  we  must  greatly  increase  and  per- 
fect the  machinery  to  carry  out  the  needed  reforms. 
Under  the  present  mismanagement,  only  acciden- 
tally can  good  result,  only  by  divine  protection  can 
these  poor  children  hope  for  any  real  justice.  Un- 
selfish and  honest  as  are  the  efforts  of  the  associations 
to  which  I  have  already  referred,  they  are  powerless 
to  prevent  the  opportunities  for  evil  at  present  ex- 

147 


isting,  although  their  good  influence  is  recognized, 
and  robbery  cannot  be  so  openly  carried  out  ais 
formerly. 

As  Americans,  our  country  is  thrown  into  more 
or  less  turmoil  every  four  years  by  the  excitement 
attending  the  presidential  election ;  as  citizens,  we 
labor  to  bring  about  changes  we  may  deem  necessary. 
A  new  president  is  elected,  new  cabinet  officers  ap- 
pointed, but  the  men  "behind  the  thrones"  in  the 
various  departments — war,  navy,  interior,  and  In- 
dian Commissioner's  office — these  remain  year  in 
and  year  out,  whether  we  have  a  Democratic  or  a 
Republican  President!  The  cabinet  officers  are 
called  upon,  perchance,  to  solve  great  problems;  but 
the  multitudinous  questions  which  continuously  arise 
are  settled  by  these  employees,  who,  in  one  way  or 
another,  have  intrenched  themselves  in  governmental 
positions,  until  any  likelihood  of  their  being  re- 
lieved is  exceedingly  remote. 

Upon  the  intelligence  and  honesty  of  these  people 
much  of  our  national  work  depends.  The  citizens 
imagine  that  the  new  administration  will  remove 
old  wrongs,  and  execute  needed  reforms;  but  year 
after  year  the  same  condition  of  affairs,  in  all  the 
different  departments,  continues,  and  the  recognized 
heads,  such  as  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  and  the 
Secretary  of  War,  exercise  only  feebly  the  duties 
of  their  offices.  They  are  continually  met  with  ob- 
stacles insurmountable  in  their  endeavors  to  intro- 
duce the  needed  reforms;  this  is  equally  true  in  the 
Indian  service!  Nothing  but  a  "clean  sweep,"  in- 
volving immense  expense  and  labor,  would  fit  these 
institutions  to  mete  out  any  hope  of  justice  in  regard 
to   the   difficult   questions   at   present   obtaining.     I 

148 


.t       Q. 

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w  ■■=  a. 

>  «  ex 


D 


:pressing  myself  so 
feel  the  deepest  in- 
ancl   recognize   my 

—  n,  what,  I  think,  is 
md  wrong-doing  to 
protect  and  educate. 
Qhumanity  to  man 
o." 

^  cerner  of  character; 

CM  .  ' 

g  )d  with  more  readi- 
°^  ng  to  allow.  It  is 
-§  oment  should  exert 

c  ;ion  of  missionaries 

< 

~|_  tions  have  arisen  in 

<    the  army  has  been 

^  y.     Why  not  avoid 

.  e  Indians  under  the 

q:  states  army?     They 

^  else;  their  commis- 

_j    behavior.     Politics 

I    harmful   influence, 

o 

5  IS  would  be  better, 

JaJ  !  more  sure  to  reach 

^  ;ed.     Thousands   of 

y_  vernment  annually, 

^    be  more  likely  to 

^  vor  of  the  transfer 

^  !  War  Department, 

^      also   supply   suit- 

y  experience  teach- 

2  white  man  applies 

i"  Satan  finds  some 

'do."     To  make  the 


149 


isting,  although  the" 
and  robbery  canno- 
formerly. 

As  Americans,  oi" 
or  less  turmoil  ever 
attending  the  presi(- 
labor  to  bring  about 
A  new  president  is 
pointed,  but  the  me 
various  departments 
dian    Commissioner' 
and  year  out,  whetl 
Republican     Preside 
called  upon,  perchar 
the  multitudinous  qi 
are  settled  by  these 
another,  have  intren( 
positions,    until    anj 
lieved  is  exceedingly 

Upon  the  intellige 
much  of  our  nation" 
imagine   that   the   n 
old  wrongs,  and  ext 
after  year  the  same 
different  department 
heads,  such  as  the  ! 
Secretary   of  War, 
of  their  offices.     Tht 
stacles  insurmountat 
duce  the  needed  refc 
Indian  service!     Not" 
volving  immense  exp 
institutions  to  mete  o 
to    the    difficult    que; 


< 

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hope  I  may  be  pardoned  for  expressing  myself  so 
forcibly  on  this  subject,  but  I  feel  the  deepest  in- 
terest in  the  Indian  question,  ancl  recognize  my 
duty  to  state,  as  nearly  as  I  can,  what,  I  think,  is 
the  cause  of  so  much  trouble  and  wrong-doing  to 
those  we  are  in  honor  bound  to  protect  and  educate. 
It  is  the  old  story,  "Man's  inhumanity  to  man 
makes  countless  thousands  mourn." 

The  Indian  is  a  very  acute  discerner  of  character; 
he  separates  truth  from  falsehood  with  more  readi- 
ness than  most  people  are  willing  to  allow.  It  is 
on  this  account  that  the  Government  should  exert 
its  protecting  care  in  the  selection  of  missionaries 
as  well  as  in  other  appointments. 

Whenever  any  serious  complications  have  arisen  in 
the  management  of  the  Indians,  the  army  has  been 
called  upon  to  provide  a  remedy.  Why  not  avoid 
many  of  these  evils  by  placing  the  Indians  under  the 
care  of  the  officers  of  the  United  States  army  ?  They 
know  them  better  than  any  one  else ;  their  commis- 
sions are  permanent  during  good  behavior.  Politics 
would  be  powerless  to  exert  a  harmful  influence, 
and  the  condition  of  the  Indians  would  be  better, 
and  supplies  of  all  kinds  would  be  more  sure  to  reach 
them,  and  be  honestly  distributed.  Thousands  of 
dollars  would  be  saved  to  the  Government  annually, 
and  harmony  and  peace  would  be  more  likely  to 
endure.  I  am  one  strongly  in  favor  of  the  transfer 
of  the  Indians  to  the  care  of  the  War  Department, 
provided  the  Government  would  also  supply  suit- 
able teachers  and  instructors.  My  experience  teach- 
es me  that  what  is  true  of  the  white  man  applies 
with  equal  force  to  the  Indian:  "Satan  finds  some 
mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to  do."     To  make  the 


149 


Indian  happy,  j'ou  must  keep  him  well  employed, 
and  begin  with  wholesome,  useful  teaching,  and  so 
make  it  possible  for  him  to  receive  fair  wages  for 
his  labor.  Industrial  education  is  most  important 
for  him.  I  think  the  admirable  system  carried  on 
by  General  Armstrong  and  Captain  Pratt  proves 
this  assertion. 

Copway,  or  Kah-ge-ga-gah-bowh,  a  Chippewa  In- 
dian, wrote  in  1850  a  work  concerning  the  Ojib- 
ways,  which  is  well  worth  reading.  He  said: 
"Education  and  Christianity  are  to  the  Indian  what 
wings  are  to  the  eagle  which  soars  above  his  home — 
they  elevate  him;  and  these,  given  him  by  men  of 
right  views,  enable  him  to  rise  above  degradation, 
and  hover  about  the  high  mounts  of  wisdom  and 
truth."  These  words  are  true  to-day,  and  when  we 
consider  they  were  written  bj^  one  who  laid  aside 
his  bow,  and  went  to  school  in  Illinois  for  only 
twenty  months,  we  recognize  the  fact  that  the  In- 
dian is  certainly  capable  of  education.  He  states 
that  during  a  residence  of  six  years  among  the  Pale 
Faces,  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  men  and  things, 
and  that  he  desired  to  learn  still  more,  so  that  his 
brothers  in  the  far  west  might  share  with  him  his 
crust  of  information.  He  says:  "For  this  end  I 
have  labored,  and  do  labor,  and  will  continue  to 
labor,  until  success  crowns  my  efforts,  or  my  hands 
and  voice  are  silent  in  the  home  of  the  departed." 

"It  can  be  proved  that  the  introduction  of  Chris- 
tianity into  the  Indian  tribes  has  been  productive 
of  immense  good ;  it  has  changed  cu.stoms  as  old  as 
any  on  the  earth;  it  has  dethroned  error  and  has 
enthroned  truth.  This  fact  is  enough  to  convince 
any  one  of  the  injustice  and  falsity  of  the  common 

150 


saying  'that  the  Indian  will  be  Indian  still.' 
Give  the  Indian  the  means  of  education,  and  he 
will  avail  himself  of  them;  keep  them  from  him, 
and  let  me  tell  you,  he  is  not  the  only  loser." 

Copway  relates  a  beautiful  story,  showing  Indian 
honor,  told  him  by  Ne-gah-ba-an,  in  1834.  An  In- 
dian, while  intoxicated,  had  killed  another  and  fled; 
by  Indian  law,  the  relatives  of  the  murdered  man 
should  take  their  vengeance  upon  the  murderer's 
family.  They  thereupon  seized  the  brother  who 
remained,  and  bound  him  to  the  stake.  Twelve  In- 
dians stood  with  drawn  arrows,  at  thirty  paces,  to 
execute  him;  he  requested  them  to  wait  for  an 
instant,  and  with  a  loud  voice  cried  out:  "My 
brother,  if  you  can  endure  the  idea  that  hereafter 
the  nation  shall  look  upon  us  as  a  race  of  cowards, 
live,  but  I  choose  to  die  in  your  stead."  As  he 
said  this  the  murderer  sprang  from  the  thicket, 
came  forward,  and  threw  himself  at  his  feet,  saying 
that  he  was  merely  trying  to  get  over  the  effects  of 
the  intoxication,  that  he  might  die  like  a  man. 
Thereupon  he  took  his  place  at  the  stake,  and  sang 
his  death  song: 

Ne,-bah-bah-moo-say-ke-zhe,-goon-ai 
Ne-ge-chog-a-y  e-shaw '  -wod . 

And  as  he  finished  his  last  words,  the  arrows  flew 
to  his  heart. 

A  poor  Indian  died  neglected,  carrying  to  his 
grave  a  certificate,  stating  that  "Taopi,  or  Wounded 
Man,  is  entitled  to  the  lasting  gratitute  of  the  United 
States,  for  having,  with  other  Christian  Indians, 
rescued  two  hundred  white  women  and  children 
during  the  Sioux  War."     He  has  gone  to  the  land 


151 


where,  as  Red  Cloud  once  said,  "it  is  hoped  white 
men  will  tell  no  lies." 

We  are  all  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  Indian's 
qualities  of  bravery,  endurance,  and  strategy,  but 
few  seem  to  know  of  his  affectionate  love  as  a  parent, 
his  devotion  to  and  interest  in  his  children,  his  re- 
spect for  religion,  and  his  absolute  abhorrence  of  pro- 
fanity. Whenever  he  mentions  the  name  of  the 
Deity,  "  Gitche-manito, "  Great  Spirit,  he  bows  his 
head  reverently  and  extends  his  arms,  the  palms  of- 
his  hands  upward,  a  picture  well  worth  the  con- 
templation of  his  pale  face  brother. 

When  Bishop  Whipple  first  saw  the  Chippewa 
Indians,  they  were  a  lot  of  poor,  miserable  wretches, 
ill-fed  and  ill-clothed,  many  of  them  given  to  drink, 
and  wasted  by  disease.  White  men  laughed  at  his 
humane  intentions,  but  he  proceeded  in  his  noble 
endeavor  to  elevate  them,  mentally  and  physically, 
and  to  save  their  souls.  Through  his  efforts  White 
Earth  reservation,  the  fairest  of  our  Indian  homes, 
was  created.  White  Earth  is  twenty-three  miles 
north  of  "Detroit  City,"  in  northwestern  Minne- 
sota. The  agency  quarters  are  prettily  situated 
near  a  clear  lake,  and  consist  of  a  government  build- 
ing, the  day-schools,  headquarters  of  the  agent,  po- 
lice headquarters,  post-office,  storehouses  and  a  few 
small  stores,  government  employees'  houses,  Indian 
ealuns,  etc.  This  is  the  centre  of  the  large  reserva- 
tion, but  the  main  population  is  scattered  over  a 
large  extent  of  territory.  Each  family  lives  on  its 
own  farm  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres,  allotted 
by  the  Government. 

The  schools  of  the  reservation  are  well  managed 
and   well   patronized;   they    are   two   in   number — a 


153 


i^. 


.\ 


\,/.  ilL     sf 


'f:<^ 


•€  v? 


boarding  and  a  day  school.  The  boarding  scholars 
have  a  separate  building  for  residence,  but  they  at- 
tend school  in  the  building  with  the  day  scholars. 
A  visit  to  the  schools  is  very  interesting,  and  the 
recitations  compare  favorably  with  those  of  the 
eastern  schools  with  scholars  of  the  same  age.  Sun- 
day-school is  held  in  the  day-school  building  every 
Sunday,  and  nothing  is  left  undone  that  will  im- 
prove the  minds  and  bodies  of  the  Indian  children. 

Although  the  Indian  adults  rarely  will,  or  rarely 
can,  speak  English,  yet  there  are  growing  up  all 
around  them  children  from  ten  to  fifteen  years  of 
age  who  not  only  understand,  but  can  both  speak 
and  write  very  well  in  the  white  man's  language. 

This  natural  diffidence  in  speaking  English,  even 
when  they  can  do  so,  is  well  shown  in  the  following 
incident:  A  beautiful  young  Indian  girl  came  one 
morning  to  the  hospital  and  inquired  for  me.  As 
she  had  declined  to  answ^er  me  in  English,  I  sup- 
posed she  could  not  speak  our  language.  She  made 
known  through  my  interpreter  what  she  wanted,  and 
waited  in  the  dispensary  for  me  to  prepare  the  needed 
medicine.  While  I  was  putting  it  up,  some  one  hap- 
pened to  pass  the  door.  I  called  attention  in  English, 
remarking  on  the  girl's  comeliness  of  figure,  her 
beautiful  eyes  and  teeth,  and  general  good  looks. 
I  did  this  while  I  was  at  w^ork,  speaking  in  such  a 
way  as  would  not  lead  her  to  suppose  I  was  talking 
of  her.  When  I  had  finished  putting  up  my  medi- 
cines, I  handed  them  to  her,  and  she,  looking  ro- 
guishly in  my  face,  said  in  the  best  of  English, 
"Thank  you,  doctor,  for  your  compliments."  My 
feelings  can  be  better  imagined  than  described. 

For  the  maintenance  of  good  order  on  the  reser- 


153 


vation,  an  admirable  police  force  has  been  organized. 
The  men  are  a  fine-looking  lot,  and  would  be  a  credit 
to  the  police  force  of  any  land;  they  carry  no  arms 
except  on  special  occasions,  or  in  case  of  danger. 
They  wear  a  neat-fitting  gray  uniform,  with  "United 
States  Police"  on  their  buttons  and  on  their  caps. 
There  were  two  stores  upon  the  reservation  per- 
mitted by  the  Government,  and  under  its  careful 
supervision  and  inspection.  These  were  long,  low 
buildings,  very  similiar  in  appearance  and  in  con- 
tents, to  the  country  store.  Here  the  Indian  bought 
his  clothing,  tobacco,  and  the  little  luxuries  which 
he  thought  necessary  for  himself  and  family.  When 
out  of  money  he  obtained  credit  by  orders  on  his 
yearly  allowance,  or  by  promises  to  pay  in  the  wheat 
and  vegetables  which  he  might  raise  in  the  future, 
or  by  pawning  his  valuable  bead  ornaments  or  furs. 
Pay-day  comes  but  once  a  year,  and  when  it  comes 
it  brings  good  cheer  for  the  Indian  to  a  limited  ex- 
tent, for  most  of  his  money  finds  its  way  into  the 
hands  of  the  trader.  Then  the  clans  are  assembled 
by  their  chiefs,  and  muster  for  pay;  one  by  one 
their  names  are  called,  and  they  present  themselves 
in  their  best  attire,  and  receive  the  head  money, 
eight  dollars  each,  for  themselves,  their  wives,  and 
their  children.  They  also  receive  presents  of  cloth- 
ing, tinware,  cutlery,  etc.  Indian  blankets  are  es- 
pecially prized;  they  are  quite  commonly  worn  over 
white  men's  clothing,  around  the  waist,  or  thrown 
over  the  shoulders,  and  the  feather  and  paint  are 
still  seen  occasionally  on  the  reservation,  but  the 
white  men's  clothing  is  superseding  the  picturesque 
Indian  dress.  However,  all,  save  a  few  young 
women,  retain  the  moccasin,  and  even  the  rector  of 


154 


Saint  Coliimba  wore  his  moccasins  in  the  chancel. 
Many  baptized  Indians  have  cut  their  hair  quite 
short,  like  the  white  men,  but  the  braided  hair,  one 
on  each  side  of  the  head,  is  mostly  in  style.  The 
younger  portion  of  the  community  take  pride  in 
adopting  the  clothing  of  the  pale  face. 

The  modern  Indian  cabin  furnished  by  the  Gov- 
ernment is  built  of  hewn  logs,  with  good  floors, 
windows,  and  doors.  These,  of  course,  are  greatly 
in  demand  in  the  winter  months,  but  mostly  all 
cling  to  the  comforts  of  the  wigwam  in  the  warm 
summer  months.  These  are  built  of  birch-bark,  up- 
on strong  wooden  frames  about  eight  feet  high,  and 
twenty  to  thirty  feet  or  more  in  circumference. 
Platforms  for  sleeping-mats  are  built  within  the  wig- 
wam, a  bare  place  in  the  center  being  left  for  the 
ever-burning  fire.  An  aperture  in  the  roof  permits 
the  escape  of  smoke  and  secures  good  ventilation. 
The  reed-mats,  used  for  carpets,  are  very  beautiful 
specimens  of  work,  and  would  secure  large  prices  in 
New  York  or  Boston.  The  door  is  usually  guarded 
by  a  herd  of  worthless,  ravenous  dogs.  The  Indian 
finds  the  wigwams  very  comfortable,  even  in  the 
coldest  winter  nights,  with  the  temperature  fifty 
degrees  below  zero. 

The  Indian  warrior  is  well  trained,  not  only  in 
the  use  of  his  weapons  but  in  the  valuable  lessons  of 
strategy.  He  studies  intelligently  the  signs  existing 
about  him,  in  the  trampled  grass  and  earth,  the 
broken  twig,  the  size  and  number  of  fires,  and  their 
remains.  From  earliest  childhood  he  learns  to  be  a 
patient  hunter,  but  above  all  he  studies  to  conquer 
himself,  to  be  patient  in  suffering,  fearless  in  battle, 
indifferent  to  death,  and  when  captured,  to  endure 

155 


torture  nobly,  and  to  look  his  enemies  calmly  in  the 
face. 

In  the  bloody  wars,  waged  with  ever-varying  for- 
tune against  his  hated  enemies,  the  Sioux,  could  be 
found  good  examples  of  true  heroism  and  unselfish 
deeds  of  daring.  The  Indian  is  now  as  well  armed 
as  the  white  man,  l)ut  in  olden  times  his  arms  con- 
sisted of  a  war-club,  spear,  bow  and  arrows,  a  scal- 
ping-knife,  and  the  famous  tomahawk.  All  these 
have  disappeared  from  use,  unless  we  except  the 
tomahawk,  which  is  still  retained  more  as  an  em- 
blem of  authority  than  as  a  weapon  of  war.  These 
tomahawks  are  made  of  steel  and  brass,  a  combined 
pipe  and  battle-axe  in  one.  The  handle  is  usually 
ornamented  with  brass  tacks  and  strips  of  otter- 
skin.  The  peace-pipe  is  a  very  gorgeous  affair,  the 
stem  of  which  is  decorated  with  gay  ribbons,  horse- 
hair, and  beadwork.  The  bowl  is  obtained  in  barter 
from  the  Sioux,  and  comes  from  the  famous  red- 
pipe-stone  quarries  of  Dakota.  The  pipes  used  at 
councils  are  very  often  valuable  and  highly  orna- 
mented, and  the  ceremonies  observed  in  lighting, 
presenting,  and  smoking  them,  are  exceedingly  in- 
teresting to  witness. 

Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig  has  been  the  famous  war- 
chief,  or  general,  of  the  Chippewas  in  many  of 
their  battles  with  the  savage  Sioux.  He  is  a  tall, 
fine-looking  Indian,  of  commanding  appearance, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  stoical  and  dignified,  not  easily 
aroused,  either  to  anger  or  mirth,  but  with  a  heart 
of  much  kindness.  He  was  a  faithful  friend,  and 
in  this  respect  no  white  man  could  outdo  him.  Like 
all  Indians,  he  had  a  great  regard  for  his  personal 
appearance,   and  was  always  neatly  and  even  well 

156 


dressed  after  the  fashion  of  his  race.  He  wore  on 
his  feet  handsome  and  well-made  moccasins,  heavily 
beaded,  and  on  his  legs  well-fitted  buckskin  leggings, 
with  broad  and  showy  garters  of  solid  bead  work 
and  skunk  fur,  with  four  eagles'  feathers  suspended 
from  each ;  these  signified  four  Sioux  killed  in  battle. 
His  coat  was  of  black  broadcloth,  without  belt,  but 
suspended  from  either  shoulder,  across  his  chest  to 
his  hips,  were  immense  tobacco-pouches,  of  the  most 
expensive  design  and  costliest  beads.  For  earrings 
he  wore  eight  of  pure  silver,  four  in  each  ear; 
around  his  head,  like  a  turban,  an  elegantly  beaded 
otter-skin,  and  rising  from  his  scalp-lock  a  long 
eagle's  feather  was  worn,  chiefly  in  pride,  a  symbol 
of  at  least  one  scalp  taken  in  battle  with  his  old 
enemies.  His  raven  hair  was  deeply  parted,  and 
the  parting  stained  with  vermillion;  it  was  also 
carefully  oiled  and  braided,  one  braid  hanging  at 
each  side  of  the  head,  at  the  ear;  the  plaits  were 
tied  with  blue  braid.  He  carried  in  his  pocket  a 
handkerchief,  which  he  used  like  a  white  man,  and 
his  bearing  in  the  presence  of  ladies  was  always  po- 
lite and  courteous.  At  table  he  was  a  well-man- 
nered man,  eating  as  he  saw  others  eat.  I  have 
often  noticed,  if  he  wanted  to  cough  at  table,  he 
would  turn  his  head  away  and  bring  his  hand  to 
his  mouth.  Indeed,  I  have  met  white  men  who 
could  learn  many  lessons  of  poljteness  from  my 
friend  Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig.  He  never  spoke 
lEnglish,  and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  he  could, 
but  once  I  heard  him  utter  an  English  word.  We 
were  out  together  hunting  deer,  and  were  waiting 
a  moment  for  a  little  rest,  when  the  Indian  came 
up  to  me  with  the  funniest  show  of  mirth  and  said 

157 


the  one  word  "Cold.''  The  familiar  word,  from 
oue  whom  I  supposed  knew  no  En^dish,  surprised 
me,  and  I  asked  him  then  and  there  if  he  could 
not  understand  me;  but  his  stoical  features  gave 
no  sign;  he  shook  his  head,  and  made  indications 
that  he  could  not.  We  spent  nuich  time  together, 
and  no  one  on  the  reservation  was  more  welcome 
at  my  fireside  than  the  kind  friend,  the  Chippewa 
chief.  I  know  he  entertained  the  highest  regard 
for  me,  which  was  well  proven  in  the  following  in- 
stance : 

I  had  had  some  trouble  with  an  hospital  atten- 
dant, the  only  Sioux  on  the  reservation,  an  ill- 
tempered  and  dangerous  man,  and  for  his  laziness 
and  general  worthlcssness  I  discharged  him.  I  sent 
him  away  in  the  morning,  and  he  showed  consider- 
able ill-nature,  so  much  so  that  I  was  warned  to 
look  out  for  him,  as  an  Indian,  when  ugly,  is  dan- 
gerous, since  he  has  no  regard  for  future  reward 
or  punishment.  That  very  night  there  was  an  en- 
tertainment at  the  agency,  a  mile  and  a  half  away, 
and  all  the  attendants  in  the  hospital  went  to  it. 
I  was  sitting  alone  in  the  parlor,  smoking,  when 
the  door-gong  sounded.  Carrying  a  little  lamp  in 
my  hand,  I  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  To 
my  surprise  in  stepped  the  discharged  Sioux ;  he 
could  not  speak  Chippewa,  and  I  could  not  speak 
Sioux,  and  so  for  an  instant  we  looked  at  each 
other,  until  he  started  for  the  dining-room,  then 
out  to  the  kitchen  and  the  laundry,  and  finally  to 
the  wood-shed.  I  followed  him  cautiously,  with 
my  thumb  in  my  hip-pocket,  so  that,  if  occasion 
arose,  I  could  quickly  seize  a  heavy  revolver  which  I 
always    carried.      I    feared    the    man    intended    to 


158 


spring  at  me,  dashing-  the  lamp  from  my  grasp, 
and  in  the  darkness  to  wrestle  with  me;  so  I  kept 
him  well  in  view.  He  came  back  to  the  kitchen, 
back  again  to  the  dining-room,  and  suddenly  en- 
tered the  pantry  closet,  where,  to  my  surprise,  he 
found  his  large  hunting-knife.  When  I  saw  he 
had  found  his  knife  I  wondered  what  he  proposed 
to  do  with  it.  He  merely  held  it  up  for  me  to  see, 
said  "Bozho,"*  and  quietly  left  the  hospital.  As 
I  closed  the  door  I  turned  and  saw,  standing  in 
the  parlor  doorway,  my  good  friend,  Mee-chee- 
kee-gee-chig.  He  said,  "  Ka-ween-one-zhe-shin,  ge- 
get,  ka-ween-one-zhe-shin,  verily  no  good."  We 
went  into  the  parlor  and  smoked  together  until  the 
return  of  my  interpreter,  and  then  my  friend  in- 
formed him  that  he  had  seen  the  Sioux  starting 
for  the  hospital,  and  had  followed  him  stealthily 
all  the  way,  and  when  he  had  entered  he  had  fol- 
lowed us  through  the  various  rooms  waiting  only 
for  any  danger  to  spring  to  my  assistance.  The 
act  of  faithful  friendship  I  shall  never  forget  as 
long  as  life  lasts. 

Another  incident  will  seem,  under  the  circum- 
stances, all  the  more  remarkable,  and  shows  how 
difficult  it  is  to  teach  the  Indian  without  ocular 
demonstration.  One  evening,  when  we  were  having 
our  usual  smoke  together  in  the  pleasant  hospital 
parlor,  the  subject  of  chickens  came  up.  I  was 
telling  him  about  the  beautiful  fowls  we  have  in 
the  Eastern  States,  large  eggs,  and  fat  chickens, 
and  light  Brahmas  worth  ten  dollars  apiece.  I 
tried  to  describe  a  poultry  exhibition,  and  when  at 

*"  Bozho;"  probably  a  corruption  of  "  bon  jour,"  learned 
from  the  French  traders — "  good  day." 

159 


last  I  attempted  the  description  of  an  incubator  I 
discovered  my  friend's  faith  in  me  had  received  a 
severe  shock.  The  interpreter  informed  me  that  he 
could  not  imagine  such  a  thing,  and  the  more  he 
tried  to  explain  the  more  the  Indian  refused  to 
credit  the  story.  "Tell  the  medicine-man,"  said 
the  chief,  "I  am  a  poor  Indian,  and  that  I  have  seen 
little  of  the  white  man's  home,  but  as  poor  as  I  am, 
and  as  ignorant  as  I  am,  he  must  not  try  to  impose 
upon  me,  with  stories  of  chickens  hatched  by  a 
lamp  instead  of  by  a  hen !  We  know  better  than 
that,  for  we  have  watched  and  witnessed  how  the 
little  chickens  come  to  life,  and  how  they  are 
nursed  until  strong  enough  to  look  out  for  them- 
selves; as  for  the  big  chickens,  it  may  be  so,  but 
such  have  never  been  seen  in  the  West."  The  in- 
terpreter tried  to  make  him  understand  my  explana- 
tions, but  the  harder  he  tried  the  more  determined 
was  the  Indian's  refusal.  "A  chicken  hatched  by 
a  lamp,  Ka-ween,  ka-ween!"*  It  was  simply  ab- 
surd. I  persisted  in  my  statements  so  strongly  that 
my  friend  excused  himself  and  left  the  hospital, 
and  I  did  not  see  him  again  for  several  days.  But 
I  could  never  induce  him  to  believe  that  pale  faces 
could  hatch  chickens  with  a  lamp. 

I  could  tell  you  of  his  devotion  as  a  husband, 
his  deep  yet  heroic  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  beloved 
children;  his  unselfish  courage  in  accompanying  me 
one  cold  winter  night  on  a  dangerous  ride  over 
many  miles  of  prairie  to  rescue  a  poor  Indian 
woman  and  her  desperately  sick  infant.  I  remem- 
ber the  last  look  I  had  of  his  manly,  true-hearted 

*Ka-ween — "positively  not." 
160 


face,  as  he  stood,  with  studied  stoicism,  watching 
us  drive  away  over  the  snow  to  the  settlements  on 
our  homeward  way.  His  memory  is  very  dear  to 
me. 

The  war-dance  in  time  of  war  is  a  very  serious 
affair;  in  time  of  peace,  however,  an  opportunity 
to  witness  one  should  not  be  lost.  The  war-dance 
is  most  interesting  to  visit  at  night,  for  then  the 
warriors  are  more  in  earnest,  and  the  dance  is  more 
hearty.  The  place  selected  is  usually  one  a  little 
off  from  the  beaten  track,  and  a  flat,  hard  section 
of  ground. 

It  is  lighted  by  large  fires,  one  at  each  end,  and 
by  beacons  of  resinous  wood,  which  are  renewed 
during  the  greatest  excitement  of  the  dance.  The 
warriors  sit  upon  the  ground  wrapped  in  their 
blankets;  at  one  end  are  the  war-drums  with  their 
drummers.  An  incessant  turn,  turn,  turn,  turn,  is 
kept  up,  increasing  and  diminishing,  as  the  musi- 
cians endeavor  to  create  excitement.  Finally,  when 
the  full  spirit  of  the  dance  begins  to  show  itself, 
a  warrior  suddenly  throws  aside  his  blanket  and 
springs  into  the  centre  of  the  dancing-place.  He 
dances  with  the  peculiar  motions  of  the  Indian, 
so  indescribable,  leaping  first  on  one  foot  and  then 
on  the  other,  calling  out  with  sudden  short  Indian 
yelps,  until  he  is  joined  by  another  and  another; 
finally  the  space  is  filled  with  dancing,  yelping  In- 
dians. The  last  thump  of  the  drum  causes  all  the 
warriors  to  be  seated.  The  music  begins  again, 
and  now  some  warrior  will  spring  into  the  arena 
with  great  excitement,  and  describe  the  battles  of 
his  fathers  or  tell  of  his  own  prowess  as  a  warrior, 
of  his  duel  with  his  enemy,   and  his  final  victory. 


161 


lie  acts  out  the  revolting  spectacle  of  cutting  out 
his  opponent's  heart  and  opening  it,  drinking 
his  life-blood,  and  ends  with  the  act  of  scalping. 
Amid  yells  of  applause  he  resumes  his  place,  and 
in  this  manner  the  dance  is  continued  until  morning 
light  sends  the  warriors  to  their  homes.  At  these 
dances  we  find  out  what  is  the  "Indian  gift."  The 
dancer  lays  at  the  feet  of  an  Indian  a  stick,  and 
tells  him  that  this  represents  a  pony,  which  will 
be  given  him  on  the  morrow.  Now,  the  value  of  a 
pony  is  a  large,  beaded  tobacco-pouch  and  a  hand- 
some beaded  otter-skin.  So  in  a  little  while  the  man 
at  whose  feet  the  single  stick  has  been  laid  begins 
his  dance,  and  places  at  the  feet  of  him  who  has 
])een  his  donor  two  little  sticks,  signifying  that  on 
the  morrow  he  will  give  him  an  otter-skin  and  a 
tobacco-pouch.  An  Indian  gift  is  one  which  can 
never  be  refused. 

Da-Dodge  was  the  chief  medicine-man,  or  Mus-ki- 
ki-ke-we-nin-ni.  The  Indian  always  regards  him 
with  the  highest  degree  of  reverence.  He  it  is  who 
used  always  to  be  consulted  about  the  bodily  ills, 
and  all  matters  relating  either  to  peace  or  war. 
The  grand  medicine-dance  is  one  of  the  great  events, 
and  its  initiation  reminds  one  of  masonic  cere- 
monies. But  it  is  a  relic  of  the  Dark  Ages,  and 
its  influence  wanes  before  the  bright  light  of  Chris- 
tianity. Da-Dodge,  the  chief  medicine-man  of  the 
Chippewas  at  White  Earth,  lived  in  a  large  medi- 
cine lodge  not  far  from  the  agency  and  the  hospital. 
He  received  his  fees  in  tobacco  and  yards  of  calico, 
and  enjoyed  a  very  good  practice.  The  medicine 
lodge  where  Da-Dodge  presided  was  a  large  wigwam, 
some  thirty  feet  long,  and  inside  of  this  was  a  secret 


162 


tent,  five  or  six  feet  long,  and  only  four  or  five  feet 
high.  Here  could  often  be  heard  the  incantations  of 
the  medicine-rattle,  and  protruding  from  under  the 
secret  tent  could  be  seen  the  nude  legs  of  a  patient 
undergoing  the  sweating  process  with  steam  from 
water  and  heated  stones,  of  which  the  Indian  is 
very  fond,  and  in  which  he  indulges  upon  the 
slightest  pretext.  The  general  manner  of  treatment 
amongst  the  Indians  is  by  the  use  of  the  rattle, 
which  the  medicine-man  holds  in  his  hand,  gazing 
intently  at  the  patient  while  rattling  it.  The  medi- 
cine-man uses  many  different  kinds  of  roots  and 
herbs,  and  is  not  a  mean  surgeon  when  his  services 
are  required. 

The  Rev.  J.  J.  Emmengahbowh,  once  a  wild  In- 
dian, received  a  good  education  from  an  Episcopal 
missionary,  and  became  the  beloved  rector  of  the 
church  of  Saint  Columba.  His  influence  for  good 
with  the  Chippewas  was  great  in  his  faithful 
parish-work,  and  he  was  an  eloquent  expounder  of 
the  Christian  religion.  He  was  much  valued  by  his 
people.  He  lived  in  a  plain  little  house  with  his 
wife,  as  his  children  have  departed  to  the  "Happy 
Hunting-grounds. ' ' 

Years  ago,  when  the  terrible  massacre  of  Crow 
Wing  was  planned,  and  when  Minnesota  was  terror- 
stricken  by  Indian  uprisings,  the  faithful  Emmen- 
gahbowh gave  timely  warning,  at  the  risk  of  his 
own  life,  and  saved  multitudes  from  a  terrible  fate. 
For  this  noble  action  he  was  obliged  to  keep  well- 
hidden  from  the  vengeance  of  those  who  were  after- 
wards his  friends. 

Indian  converts  are  sincere  believers,  and  perform 
their    duties    faithfully,    travelling    miles    on    foot 


163 


through  deep  snow  or  in  stormy  weather  to  be 
present  at  church  services,  and  making  faithful 
offerings  of  their  money  or  beadwork  with  great 
punctuality. 

One  afternoon  the  tolling  of  the  bell  of  Saint 
Columba's  little  chapel  attracted  my  attention,  and 
I  strolled  up  the  hill  from  the  Hospital  to  attend 
a  funeral.  When  I  reached  the  churchyard  I  no- 
ticed a  cart  and  oxen  moving  slowly  in  the  direction 
of  the  chapel;  the  cart  contained  a  pine-wood  cof- 
fin, in  which  rested  the  body  of  a  young  Indian 
wife.  The  husband  was  driving  the  oxen.  A  few 
Indians  were  already  in  waiting  within  the  build- 
ing. Friendly  hands  helped  the  husband  to  remove 
the  coffin  from  the  wagon  and  carry  it  into  the 
chapel.  Emmengahbowh,  faithful  and  beloved,  with 
reverent  and  sympathetic  face,  conducted  the  ser- 
vice for  the  burial  of  the  dead,  reading  it  in  the 
Chippewa  language.  The  Indians  sang  a  hymn, 
and  the  words  of  "Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee" 
seemed  to  have  increased  beauty.  At  the  close 
of  the  service,  friends  came  forward  once  more 
to  gaze  upon  the  face  of  the  dead  before  committing 
it  to  the  grave.  Then  a  strange  scene  followed:  A 
hammer  was  handed  to  the  husband,  and  in  the  sad 
silence  the  little  building  rang  with  his  blows  as 
he  hammered  the  nails  into  the  coffin  of  his  beloved 
young  wife.  The  casket  was  borne  out  into  the 
churchyard,  the  grave  was  cut  deep  in  the  clean, 
dry  sand,  pine  boughs  covered  the  bottom  of  the 
grave,  and  great  broad  strips  of  birch-bark  the 
sides.  Slowly  they  lowered  the  coffin  to  its  last 
resting-place,  reverently  they  covered  it  with  strips 
of  bark,  and  carefully  shovelled  in  the  earth.     The 


164 


"^:^^. 


^>I 


?J!i^ 


voice  of  the  fatherly  clergyman  concluded  the  ritual, 
impressive  always  in  any  tongue.  The  calm 
and  quiet  of  this  Western  afternoon,  and  the 
voices  of  the  Indians  in  the  responses;  the  thought 
of  their  heroic  disappearance,  all  tended  deeply  to 
influence  the  mind  at  this  solemn  moment. 

It  is  customary  with  the  Indians  to  cover  the 
grave  with  a  little  house,  and  these  graves  are  often 
placed  immediately  in  front  of  the  cabin-door. 
This,  of  course,  is  the  modem  method  of  burial. 
Many  of  these  little  houses  are  surmounted  with 
a  cross,  an  emblem  of  sacred  faith  and  hope,  where 
all  earthly  hopes  seem  dead. 

In  General  Carrington's  little  book,  "Some  Phases 
of  the  Indian  Question,"  he  makes  use  of  the  fol- 
lowing language:  "I  have  freely  talked  with  'Spot- 
ted Tail,'  'Standing  Elk,'  and  a  score  and  more 
of  chiefs  who  came  to  be  fed  and  cared  for;  who 
sought  peace,  and  sought  it  honestly,  and  with  all 
the  flashes  of  pride  and  dignity  which  now  and  then 
brighten  their  actions,  there  was  ever  present 
that  painful  consciousness  of  their  impending  doom; 
they  were  passing  away.  I  have  seen  all  ages  and 
both  sexes,  half  naked,  and  yet  reckless  of  exposure, 
fording  the  Platte,  while  ice  ran  fast,  and  the  mer- 
cury w^as  below  the  zero  mark,  for  the  single  pur- 
pose of  gathering  from  a  post  slaughter-house  to 
the  last  scoop,  all  oifal,  however  nauseous,  that  they 
might  use  it  in  lieu  of  that  precious  game  which 
our  occupation  was  driving  from  its  haunts.  They, 
too,  were  passing  away." 

All  this  while  agents  and  inferior  officers  were 
getting  fat  and  rich  from  the  stealings  of  money 
and  food  due  to  these  brave  creatures. 


165 


Mr.  Welsh  says  of  them:  "In  the  wild  rage  of 
battle,  in  the  torturing  test  of  the  sun-dance;  in 
the  hour  of  defeat  and  the  howl  of  victory;  in  the 
spirited  hunt  and  in  the  solemn  council — awake, 
asleep,  in  tepee,  or  on  the  prairie,  I  have  found 
them  the  same  fate-defying,  strong-willed,  and  pecu- 
liar race;  obdurate,  steady,  and  self-possessed  in  all 
their  moods;  yet  passing  away.  The  power  of  the 
United  States  was  never  so  great  as  now,  and  power 
is  a  measure  of  responsibility." 

Let  us  arouse  to  a  sense  of  duty  at  this  late  date, 
and  make  one  real  and  genuine  effort  to  undo  some 
of  the  wrongs  of  the  past,  and  see  to  it  that  the 
Indians  as  they  fold  their  tents,  and  depart  from 
the  last  vestige  of  their  ancestors'  lands  for  "hap- 
pier hunting-grounds,"  the  poor  children,  be  per- 
mitted to  go  in  peace. 

"  In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home  wind, 
To  the  northwest  wind  Kee-wah-din, 
To  the  islands  of  the  blessed. 
To  the  kingdom  of  Po-nee-mah, 
To  the  land  of  the  hereafter." 

Letter  of  the  poet  Longfellow  to  Dr.  Parker  upon 
receiving  a  photo  of  Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig,  a  Chip- 
pewa Chief. 

Cambridge,  June  5, 
1880. 
My  Dear  Sir; 

The  photograph  of  the  Indian  Chief,  was  duly 
received,  and  I  cannot  think  I  neglected  to  acknowl- 
edge it  and  to  thank  you  for  it.  My  letter  must 
have  miscarried,  as  I  am  generally  very  punctual 
in  such  matters.  But  it  was  so  long  ago,  I  cannot 
feel  quite  certain. 


166 


MEE-SHEE-KEE-GEE-SHIG. 

Dark  lowering  d;iy,  clouds  toucliing  all  around. 

Chippewa  War  Chief  and  Ur.  Parkers  fiieiid  and  companion  in  the  hunt  and 

in  danger. 


Permit  me  to  thank  you  now  for  this  very  strik- 
ing portrait.  How  grave,  and  calm  and  patient  in 
face  and  attitude!     It  is  excellent. 

Should  you  ever    again    see    the    Chief,    be    kind 
enough  to  thank  him  cordially  for  me. 
I  am,  my  Dear  Sir, 

Yours  very  truly, 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 


167 


AMONG  THE  CHIPPEWAS. 


With  the  map  of  the  North  American  Continent 
before  you,  and  placing  your  finger  on  the  most 
central  point,  it  will  be  very  near  the  White  Earth 
Reservation,  in  the  heart  of  the  Chippewa  country, 
not  far  from  Holy  Cross  Lake,  now  known  as  Itasca 
Lake,  the  reputed  source  of  the  great  "Father  of 
Waters." 

The  agency  buildings  are  prettily  situated  near 
a  clear  lake,  and  consist  of  a  Government  building, 
boarding  and  day  schools,  headquarters  of  the 
agent,  police  office,  post-office,  storehouses,  a  few 
small  stores.  Government  employes'  houses,  Indian 
cabins,  etc.  This  is  the  centre  of  the  Reservation, 
but  the  main  population  are  scattered  over  a  large 
extent  of  territory,  each  family  living  on  their  own 
farm,  according  to  the  number  of  acres  allotted  to 
them  by  the  Government. 

The  schools  of  the  Reservation  are  well  managed 
and  well  patronized.  They  are  two  in  number, 
the  boarding  and  the  day  school.  The  boarding 
scholars'  room  in  the  building,  but  they  attend 
school  with  the  day  scholars. 

It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  visit  the  schools  and 
to  listen  to  the  recitations  and  to  note  how  favor- 
ably they  compare  with  Eastern  schools  for  children 
of  the  same  ages.  Sunday-school  is  held  in  the  day 
school   every   Sunday,    and  nothing  is  left  undone. 


168 


so  far  as  means  will  allow,  to  improve  the  mind 
and  body  of  the  Indian  children.  Although  the  In- 
dian adult  rarely  can  or  rarely  will  speak  English, 
yet  now  there  are  growing  up  all  around  them 
children  from  ten  to  fifteen  years  of  age  who  not 
only  understand  but  can  both  speak  and  write  very 
well  indeed  in  the  white  man's  language. 

Three  times  a  week  the  mail  arrives  and  departs 
from  the  "White  Earth  Post-office.  Not  only  do  the 
white  members  of  the  community  appreciate  the 
privileges  of  the  Post-office  Department,  but  the  In- 
dians also  avail  themselves  of  its  advantages. 

For  the  maintenance  of  good  order  on  the  Reser- 
vation the  Government  organized  an  admirable 
police  force,  composed  of  full-blood  and  half-breed 
Indians.  The  men  were  a  fine  looking  lot,  and  would 
be  a  credit  to  the  police  force  of  any  land.  The 
police  go  about  entirely  unarmed,  but  are  always 
in  their  neat-fitting  gray  uniform  with  "U.  S.  Po- 
lice" on  their  buttons  and  on  their  cap.  It  is  pos- 
sible to  arm  them  properly  should  occasion  require. 

Very  few  in  the  Eastern  States  seem  to  realize  how 
low  the  mercury  falls  in  winter  in  the  northern  re- 
gions of  Minnesota.  For  weeks  the  mercury  ther- 
mometer will  be  useless,  being  quite  frozen !  Temper- 
ature from  40  to  45  degrees  below  zero.  One  or  two 
cold  nights  in  the  winter  of  1879  and  1880  the  Gov- 
ernment spirit  thermometer  registered  57  de- 
grees below  zero.  However  in  the  world  the  Indians 
in  wigwams  can  endure  the  temperature  has  re- 
mained a  mystery.  From  this  bitter  cold  of  winter 
the  mercury  runs  up  in  summer  to  112  degrees  in 
the  very  hottest  weather  of  noonday,  but  the  nights 
are  almost  always  cool  and  refreshing,  and  in  spite  of 


169 


these  extremes  the  climate  is  delightful,  and  very 
sudden  changes  are  rare,  the  rise  from  winter  cold  to 
summer  heat  being  very  gradual.  The  spring  is 
very  short  and  the  autumn  wonderfully  fine,  al- 
though lacking  the  beauty   of  the  Eastern   foliage. 

Upon  the  Reservation  there  were  two  stores  per- 
mitted by  the  Government  and  under  careful  su- 
pervision and  inspection.  These  were  long,  low 
buildings,  very  similar  in  appearance  and  in  con- 
tents to  the  average  country  store.  Here  the  In- 
dian obtained  his  groceries,  clothing,  tobacco  and  the 
little  luxuries  which  he  found  necessary  for  himself 
and  family.  When  out  of  money  he  obtained 
"credit"  by  orders  on  the  yearly  allowance  or  by 
promises  to  pay  from  the  wheat  and  vegetables  which 
he  might  raise  in  the  future,  or  by  pawning  his  valu- 
able bead  ornaments  or  furs.  Pay  day  comes  but 
once  a  year,  and  when  it  comes  it  brings  good  cheer 
for  the  Indian.  Then  the  clans  are  assembled  by 
their  chiefs  and  "mustered  for  pay."  One  by  one 
their  names  are  called,  and  they  present  themselves 
in  their  best  attire  and  receive  the  annual  head 
money — $8  each — for  themselves,  their  wives  and 
children.  They  also  receive  presents  of  clothing, 
blankets,  tinware,  cutlery,  etc. 

The  Indian  regards  the  medicine  man,  "Mus-ki- 
kee-wi-ni-nee/ '  with  the  highest  degree  of  reverence. 
He  it  is  who  used  always  be  consulted  and  obeyed 
in  all  important  matters  relating  either  to  war  or 
peace;  besides  exercising  his  important  functions 
as  the  healer  of  wounds  and  the  curer  of  disease. 
The  grand  medicine  dance  is  one  of  the  greatest 
events  of  the  year,  and  its  initiation  reminds  one 
forcibly  of  Masonic  ceremonies,  but  it  is  a  heathen 


170 


relic  and  its  influence  wanes  before  the  bright  light 
of  Christianity.  Da-Dodge  was  the  "chief  medicine 
man"  of  the  Chippewas  at  White  Earth,  and  lived 
in  a  large  medicine  lodge  not  far  from  the  Agency 
and  the  hospital.  He  received  his  fees  in  tobacco 
and  yards  of  calico,  and  enjoyed  a  very  good  prac- 
tice. 

The  medicine  lodge  where  Da-Dodge  presided  was 
a  large  wigwam  of  l^irch  bark  some  thirty  feet  long, 
and  inside  of  this  was  the  secret  tent,  five  or  six  feet 
long  and  only  four  or  five  feet  high.     Here  could  be 
heard  the  incantations  and  the  medicine  "rattle," 
and  protruding  from  under  the  secret  tent  might  be 
seen,    the   nude   legs   of    a    patient   undergoing   the 
sweating  process  with  steam  from  water  and  heated 
stones.     The    blanket    was    quite    commonly    worn, 
and  the  feather  and  the  paint  were  seen  occasion- 
ally on  the  Reservation,  but  the  white  man's  cloth- 
ing has    superseded    the    picturesque    Indian  dress, 
although    all    save    a    few    young    women    retained 
the    moccasin.     Even    the    rector    of    St.    Columba 
wore  his  moccasins   in   the   chancel!     Many   of   the 
baptized  Indians  have    cut    their    hair    quite    short 
like  white  men,   but  the  braid   is  mostly  in  style. 
The  younger  portion  of  the  community  take  pride 
in  adopting  the  clothing  of  the  pale  face.     For  the 
use  of  the  Indians  the  Government  furnishes  cabins 
built  of  hewn   logs  with  good  floors   and  windows 
and  doors.     These,  of  course,  are  greatly  in  demand 
in  winter  weather,  but  almost  all  still  cling  to  the 
comforts    of    the     wigwam    in    the    warm    summer 
months.     The  wigwam  of  the  Chippewa  is  built  of 
birch  bark  upon  strong  wooden  frames,  about  eight 
feet  high  and  twenty  to  thirty  feet  or  more  in  cir- 

171 


cumference.  Platforms  for  the  sleeping  mats,  two 
or  three  feet  high,  circle  the  tent,  a  broad  space  in 
the  centre  being  left  for  the  ever  burning  fire.  An 
aperture  in  the  roof  permits  the  escape  of  smoke 
and  secures  good  ventilation.  The  reed  mats  used 
for  carpets  are  often  very  beautiful  specimens  of 
work,  and  would  secure  large  prices  in  New  York 
or  Boston.  The  door  is  usually  of  blanket,  and  is 
guarded  by  a  herd  of  worthless,  ravenous  dogs. 
The  Indians  finds  the  wigwam  very  comfortable  even 
in  the  coldest  winter  nights  with  the  temperature 
50  degrees  below  zero !  The  Indian  warrior  was  well 
trained,  not  only  in  the  use  of  his  weapons  but  in 
the  valuable  lessons  of  strategy.  He  studied  intel- 
ligently the  signs  which  exists  about  him,  in  the 
trampled  grass  and  earth,  the  broken  twig,  the  size 
and  number  of  the  fires,  or  in  their  remains,  etc. 
He  learns  to  conquer  himself,  to  be  patient  under 
suffering,  fearless  in  battle,  indifferent  to  death — 
captured  and  awaiting  a  death  of  torture,  to  look 
his  enemies  calmly  in  the  face.  In  these  bloody 
wars,  waged  with  ever  varying  fortune,  could  be 
found  examples  of  the  highest  heroism  and  un- 
selfishness, deeds  of  daring,  unsurpassed  by  the 
most  gallant  records  in  history.  It  is  undeniably 
true  that  the  Indian  possesses  many  admirable 
traits;  he  is  naturally  manly  and  bold,  a  devoted 
lover  of  freedom  and  independence,  an  unequalled 
hunter,  a  fearless  warrior,  an  eloquent  orator,  a 
loving  father,  a  sincere  and  consistent  believer  in 
"The  Great  Spirit"  Gitche-Manito.  His  life  was 
free  from  cursing  and  blasphemy,  neither  does  his 
language  afford  an  opportunity  for  the  expression 
of  oaths.     His  figure  was  usually  tall  and  command- 


172 


ing,  and  his  bearing  naturally  proud ;  he  has  roamed 
through  vast  tracts  of  country  all  his  own  unchal- 
lenged. 

Rev.  J.  J.  Emmengahbowh,  once  a  wild  Indian, 
received  a  good  education  from  the  missionaries, 
and  became  the  beloved  rector  of  the  Church  of  St. 
Columba.  His  influence  for  good  with  the  Chip- 
ewas  was  very  great.  In  his  faithful  parish  work 
and  as  an  eloquent  expounder  of  the  Christian  re- 
ligion, his  services  were  much  valued  by  his  people. 
He  lived  in  a  plain  little  house  with  his  wife  and 
children,  patiently  working  and  waiting,  thinking 
only  of  his  people's  welfare,  and  firmly  trusting 
and  believing  in  his  church.  He  was  truly  a  re- 
markable man,  and  it  was  owing  to  his  efforts 
and  those  of  the  beloved  Chief,  Fair  Day,  Mi-no- 
ge-shig,  that  by  visiting  many  of  the  churches 
in  the  Eastern  States  and  making  addresses  the 
Church  of  St.  Columba,  costing  .$12,000,  was  built. 
Years  ago,  when  the  terrible  massacre  of  Crow- Wing 
was  planned,  and  when  Minnesota  was  terror-strick- 
en by  Indian  uprising,  the  faithful  Emmengahbowh 
gave  timely  warning,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life, 
and  saved  many  from  a  terrible  fate.  For  this 
noble  action  he  was  obliged  to  keep  well  hidden 
from  the  vengeance  of  those,  who  to-day  warmly 
applaud  his  unselfishness.  The  Indian  convert  is 
a  sincere  believer  and  performs  his  duties  faithfully, 
travelling  miles  on  foot  through  deep  snow  in  stormy 
weather  to  be  present  at  church  services,  and  mak- 
ing an  offering  either  of  money  or  beadwork  with 
great  punctuality.  Good  Emmengahbowh  and  our 
friend  Me-no-gee-shig,  have  gone  to  rest,  the  memory 
of  their  faithful  friendship  will  remain  with  us  al- 
ways.    Requiescant  in  Pace.     Amen. 

173 


A   MOTHER'S   EXPERIENCE  IN 
THE  COLD  NORTHWEST. 


The  following  letter  gives  a  very  good  idea  of  the 
discomforts  in  cold  regions  as  witnessed  by  a  mother. 
The  writer  of  it  shared  with  me  the  dangers  and 
sufferings  of  that  cold  and  cruel  winter  of  1879- '80. 
It  was  the  real  courage  and  skill  and  patience  united 
with  an  excellent  constitution,  to  say  nothing  of  an 
unequalled  disposition,  which  saved  the  lives  of 
husband  and  child  and  more  than  one  grateful  In- 
dian as  well,  and  won  for  her  the  undying  love  and 
devotion  of  her  Chippewa  friends,  who  gave  her 
the  simple  name  of  "The  Indian's  true  friend." 
With  help,  with  comforts,  with  advice,  and  sym- 
pathy, in  all  of  which  a  bright  pure  Christian  flame 
was  ever  burning,  she  taught  these  Indians  and  the 
palefaces,  what  womankind  can  be,  and  left  behind 
her  a  record  which  from  that  day  to  this,  now  nearly 
33  years,  these  Indians  love  to  talk  about  and  bless 
her  for. 

"During  the  winter  of  1879- '80  we  experienced 
true  Arctic  vveather — the  'Sundogs'  were  frequent 
and  very  distinct.  In  November  the  cold  set  in  with 
snow  for  the  season.  When  first  informed  that  the 
thermometer  registered  zero  I  could  not  believe  it. 
I  wore  a  suimner  gown  (over  heavy  flannels,  of 
course)   in  the  house.     The  sun  was  bright  and  the 

174 


atmosphere  was  intensely  clear.  At  Thanksgiving 
time  it  was  very  wintry.  The  highest  mark  of  the 
thermometer.  (Fahrenheit)  during  the  month  of 
December  was  16  degrees  F.,  and  this  in  the  middle 
of  the  day.  The  day  before  Christmas  the  govern- 
ment spirit  thermometer  registered— 40  degrees  F. 
All  day  long  the  ice  remained  under  and  near  the 
stove  in  the  kitchen,  where  we  kept  up  the  fire  con- 
stantly. Attempting  to  make  a  simple  cake,  the 
butter  would  harden  so  that  I  could  not  beat  it  if 
I  took  it  off  the  stove.  Meats  were  frozen  as  hard 
as  a  rock,  but  we  were  grateful  to  get  them,  for  they 
were  brought  by  the  mail  wagon  a  long  distance 
two  or  three  times  a  week. 

"Our  'menu'  was  most  simple  and  restricted, 
consisting  mostly  of  dry  groceries  like  cereals  and 
canned  goods — not  at  all  like  the  variety  reported 
by  Nansen  on  the  '  Fram ! '  A  cow  was  our  main- 
stay. It  was  her  milk  which  kept  our  child  alive — 
when  his  appetite  gave  out.  He  tired  of  the  miser- 
able lack  of  variety  in  our  food.  Everything  would 
freeze — if  possible.  One  morning  we  could  not  get 
breakfast  till  about  ten  o'clock,  it  took  so  long  to  get 
things  started.  Even  the  bread  in  an  inside  closet 
was  frozen,  although  wrapped  and  in  a  tin  box. 
It  cut  like  a  slice  of  ice  cream.  It  was  a  fight  for 
existence  in  such  a  region  of  ice.  In  each  room  we 
had  to  shut  ourselves  in  and  feed  sheet  iron  stoves 
with  the  scraggly  oak  sticks — all  night  long  as 
well  as  by  day — it  was  unsafe  to  let  the  fire  go  down 
even  in  our  bedroom. 

"We  could  wear  any  amount  of  clothing,  mostly 
woolen — my  child  of  four  years  could  only  exercise 
by  my  getting  out  with  him  for  a  few  moments  to 


175 


keep  him  in  perpetual  motion.  He  was  warmly 
wrapped  from  head  to  foot  with  fur  wrapper,  cap 
with  lappets — all  of  otter  skin,  the  present  of  an 
Indian  chief — completely  covering  his  head.  His 
face  was  only  slightly  exposed.  Even  then  often 
the  purple  spots  would  appear  on  his  cheeks  and 
nose.  Often  I  would  play  games  with  him  to  bribe 
him  to  eat.  We  have  experienced  severe  cold  in 
other  places  even  the  bitter  'Northers'  of  the  Texan 
'panhandle'  but  nothing  ever  like  this  of  1879- '80! 
Some  days,  especially  in  January,  were  beautiful. 
Zero  weather  and  even  ten  below  was  fine,  dry, 
clear  and  cold,  with  a  brilliant  sun. 

"Our  leaving  White  Earth  was  on  a  bitter  win- 
ter day,  but  so  still,  crisp  and  sunny  one  could  not 
believe  the  thermometer  stood  — 28  degrees  F.  It 
was  important  to  keep  our  child  awake  while  we  were 
driving  nearly  twenty-five  miles  over  the  rolling 
country.  It  was  growing  colder  and  colder  as  we 
drove  in  an  open  sleigh  to  the  railroad  settlements." 


176 


Dr.  Parker  in  huiitiug  suit  of  Indian  tanned  dter  t-kin  made  for  tiim  by  tlie 
Chippewa  Indians,  lM'9-80. 


THE  LOVE  OF  A  PEOPLE. 


Won  by  a  Cup  of  Water  in  His  Name. 


It  was  one  of  those  hot  September  mornings  at 
a  far  away  Indian  Reservation  hospital.  The  sur- 
geon and  his  fair  young  wife  were  chatting  with  the 
matron  in  the  dining  room.  The  windows  were  all 
open.  The  landscape  was  fair  to  see;  forest  and 
lake  and  rolling  prairie  land,  such  as  one  will  find 
near  the  sources  of  the  "Father  of  Waters."  As 
we  gazed  out  upon  the  restful  scenery,  a  tired-look- 
ing squaw  approached  with  a  huge  bundle  on  her 
back,  and  laboriously  plodded  her  way  to  a 
window,  hesitatingly  cried  out,  "Punge  nibbee," 
which  means  in  the  paleface  tongue,  "Please 
give  me  a  little  water."  She  looked  like  a  burden 
carrier  with  her  heated,  tired  face,  across  the  fore- 
head of  which  was  the  band  which  held  her  pack. 

The  matron,  a  woman  of  "executive  ability," 
pointed  towards  the  lake.  "There  you  will  find 
water  in  plenty,"  she  said,  with  a  cold,  indifferent, 
almost  contemptuous  tone. 

The  Indian  woman  turned  with  a  lowering  look, 
and  started  on  again. 

All  this  took  place  in  an  instant.  We  stood  as 
it  were  in  a  trance  of  surprise  which  was  quickly 
broken  by  the  surgeon's  wife,    w^ho    rushed    to    the 

177 


window,  and  called  eagerly  to  the  Indian.  The 
squaw  turned  doubtfully,  half  fearing  another  in- 
sult, but  was  reassured  by  the  gentle  voice.  She 
stopped  and  tooked  up  in  wonder  and  with  pleasure 
at  the  sweet,  fair  face  and  golden  hair.  It  seemed 
to  her  a  vision  of  loveliness  such  as  she  had  never 
before  seen! 

Now  the  poor  woman  approaches  and  kind  hands 
help  relieve  her  of  her  pack,  and  bring  her  into  the 
dining  room.  Food,  milk,  and  plenty  of  water,  are 
placed  before  her,  and  the  interpreter  assures  her 
of  welcome  to-day  or  any  day — food  whenever 
hungry,  rest  whenever  weary — and  "Tell  her," 
said  the  gentle  hostess,  "that  this  hospital  was 
built  for  the  Indians  by  kind-hearted  palefaces  far 
away — some  now  in  the  spirit  land.  Here  Indians 
are  ever  welcome.     Come  again  and  see  me." 

If  ever  gratitude  took  the  place  of  hate  on  human 
face  here  was  an  instance.  Regretfully  the  poor 
traveler  at  last  resumed  her  toilsome  way. 

"Well,"  said  the  matron,  "you  may  think  that  is 
good  policy,  but  /  will  tell  you  it  don't  work  among 
Indians.  See  if  the  hospital  is  not  overrun  this 
very  afternoon  with  all  the  old  beats  on  the  Reserva- 
tion." 

Sure  enough,  when  afternoon  was  on  the  wane 
the  hospital  yard  was  simply  full  of  Indians — 
blanketed,  painted  men,  boys,  and  squaws. 

It  did  seem  as  if  the  matron's  fears  were  about 
to  be  realized.  The  surgeon  and  interpreter  went 
out  on  the  hospital  steps  and  asked  them  what  they 
wished.  If  the  Indians  wished  to  come  in,  it  would 
perhaps    be    best    for    a    dozen    or    so    to    come    in 


178 


at  a  time,  and  then  they  could  in  this  manner  go 
over  the  hospital. 

"  No ! "  they  did  not  wish  to  come  in. 

"What  do  they  wish — food,  water,  tobacco?" 

"No" — not  even  that!  They  had  come  to  see 
the  Indians'  "friend,"  the  wife  of  the  Paleface 
medicine-man,  and  that  was  the  real  object  of  their 
visit. 

With  her  child  in  her  arms,  their  "friend"  came 
forth  to  renew  her  words  of  gentle  kindness  and 
sincerity.  No  man  who  could  witness  such  a  scene 
of  genuine  love,  could  ever  forget  it.  The  Indians 
pressed  about  to  touch  the  hands  and  look  in  the 
gentle  face  and  to  discern  with  their  wonderfully 
acute  powers  of  character  reading  the  true,  deep 
interest  in  their  welfare  which  was  so  apparent. 

And  so  began  the  love  and  devotion  which  many 
years  have  seasoned  and  preserved,  and  this  is  how 
a  cup  of  water  won  the  love  of  a  people! 


179 


BRAVEHEART'S  BAPTISM. 


Bravelieart,  an  Indian  chief,  stood  before  a  pic- 
ture of  Correggio's  "Ecce  Homo"  at  the  "Black- 
coats'  "  lodge.  He  was  evidently  interested  and 
puzzled  in  this  curious  appearance  of  a  mild  and 
friendly  Man  who  wore  such  a  strange  "head 
dress"  which  seemed  to  be  only  a  crown  of  thorns! 
So  he  asked  one  of  his  friends,  the  missionaries,  to 
explain  to  him  the  mystery. 

More  than  once  Braveheart  returned  to  ask  to 
have  the  story  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows  related  to 
him — the  story  of  the  great  Passion — the  story  of 
Him  who  died  to  save  others. 

That  old,  old  story  of  the  love  of  God  for  sinful 
man  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  red  man's 
heart,  and  he  became  the  Black-coats'  friend — and 
made  frequent  visits  to  the  mission  to  learn  the 
great  message. 

But,  after  a  while,  the  visits  of  Braveheart  ceased, 
and  he  was  missed.  When  one  of  the  Black-coats 
returned  from  a  long  journey,  he  reported  that 
Braveheart  was  gone  to  the  "happy  hunting 
grounds,"  and  would  never  visit  the  mission  again. 

He  had  called  his  friends  about  him  from  time 
to  time  during  his  sickness  in  his  wigwam,  and  told 
them  the  story  of  the  picture  of  the  "Friend  of  all 
men,"  and  how  if  the  Great  Spirit  spared  his  life 

180 


a  while  longer,  he  would  ask  for  the  Black-coats' 
ceremony — Baptism — but  as  his  strength  failed  and 
death  approached  to  overcome  the  brave,  old  chief- 
tain, he  gave  the  family  his  last  instructions. 

"When  I  am  dead,"  said  Braveheart,  "place 
upon  my  breast  in  the  grave  the  totem  of  the 
Black-coats,  the  Cross  of  the  Friend  of  all  men, 
and  above  my  grave  set  up  a  large  Cross  that  it 
may  be  seen  from  afar,  and  when  anyone  asks  why 
is  that  great  Cross  erected  there,  say  to  them  that 
Braveheart,  who  believed  in  the  white  man's  Sav- 
iour, is  resting  in  peace*  beneath  it,  hoping  for  a 
better  life — trusting  to  the  love  of  the  Father  of 
Life." 

And  thus  it  was  that  Braveheart  died,  and  was 
buried  with  Christian  symbols  within  and  without 
his  lonely  grave. 

We  were  speaking  of  all  these  things  one  after- 
noon in  the  smoking  section  of  a  Pullman  car 
speeding  over  the  great  prairies  where  so  short  a 
time  ago  the  Indians  roamed  at  will,  and  someone 
said :  ' '  What  a  pity  that  good  Indian  had  never  been 
baptized. ' ' 

One  of  our  party  was  a  quiet  unassuming  Catho- 
lic priest,  sitting  with  us  and  enjoying  his  smoke. 
He  had  been  a  listener  to  the  story.  The  good 
priest  looked  up  at  this  last  remark,  and,  gently 
placing  his  hand  upon  the  knee  of  the  narrator, 
said:  "My  son,  Braveheart  was  baptized." 


*Even  among  the  non-Christian  Indians,  the  term  "  go  in 
peace  "  (rest  in  peace)  is  common,  as  is  also  the  term  "  Father 
of  all.  Father  of  life" — meaning  "the  Great  White  Spirit 
whom  we  call  God." 

181 


"Did  you  know  him,  Father?"  we  asked  the  good 
priest. 

"No,  my  son,  but  I  will  explain  to  you.  The 
Church  recognizes  three  forms  of  Baptism,  the  regu- 
lar and  well-known  rite  with  water,  and  the  Baptism 
of  blood  of  the  martyrs,  who  gave  their  lives  in  de- 
fence of  the  Faith,  and  a  third  form,  the  Baptism 
of  Desire.  Many  a  soul  struggling,  groping  in  the 
darkness  of  unbelief  or  un-Christian  surroundings, 
stretches  forth  his  hands,  longing  for  a  Saviour, 
whose  name  he  does  not  know.  God  sees  it  all,  and 
the  Holy  Spirit  baptizes  that  soul  for  the  inher- 
itance of  everlasting  salvation." 

As  the  dear,  old  priest  ceased  speaking,  the  sun 
was  setting  and  we  all  sat  in  silence  for  awhile. 
That  was  a  most  fitting  explanation  of  Braveheart's 
Baptism. 


182 


LOST  ON  THE  GREAT  PLAINS. 


In  the  cold  month  of  January,  1868,  I  received 
an    invitation    from    an    officer    friend,    Lieutenant 

,  to  visit  him  at  the  frontier  station.  Fort 

Cedar  Point,  Colo.  The  message  was  brought  to 
Denver  by  a  non-commissioned  officer,  who,  with 
two  or  three  soldiers,  would  return  to  the  fort  in 
a  few  hours.  The  necessary  preparations  were 
quickly  made,  and  we  were  soon  en  route  south- 
ward. We  traveled  in  a  western  wagon  drawn  by 
two  mules. 

The  first  night  we  expected  to  sleep  under  cover 
of  some  house,  and  the  next  night  we  must  find 
our  camp  on  the  ground  in  the  open  prairie.  We 
started  in  cold  weather,  and  when  we  reached  our 
camping  place  a  dreary  snowstorm  had  commenced. 
We  formed  camp  as  rapidly  as  possible,  building 
a  huge  fire,  and  by  good  luck  finding  an  old  wagon- 
box,  we  propped  that  up  against  the  wind.  Our 
simple  meal  finished  we  wrapped  ourselves  in  our 
blankets,  and  were  soon  fast  asleep.  The  snow 
covered  us  pretty  well  before  morning,  but  we 
awoke  refreshed  and  hungry,  and  without  having 
suffered  from  the  cold.  The  storm  had  ceased,  and 
we  started  forth  to  complete  our  journey.  What 
tonic  can  equal  the  glorious,  invigorating  atmosphere 
of  Colorado? 


183 


Toward  evening  the  rough  outbuildings  and 
tents  of  the  fort  came  into  view,  and  we  were 
heartily  welcomed  at  the  "mess"  by  our  friends. 
With  the  exception  of  a  few  "dug  outs"  or  holes 
in  the  ground,  the  command  was  quartered  in  can- 
vas houses — tents  spread  over  a  light  wooden  frame- 
work. These  houses  had  one  door,  with  a  window 
in  it  to  give  light ;  of  course  they  were  very  cold, 
but  well  ventilated,  and  with  plenty  of  fur  rugs 
and  wraps,  and  the  little  stove  well  filled,  one  could 
make  himself  quite  comfortable.  Under  canvas  in 
Colorado  in  Summer  is  delightful,  but  in  January 
and  February  there  are  some  drawbacks.  Twelve 
miles  away  from  the  post  was  a  mail  station,  where 
twice  in  the  week  we  could  get  "home  letters."  That 
little,  rough  mail  station  seemed  a  very  important 
place  to  us — "the  connecting  link."  We  regarded 
it  with  great  interest,  as  one  would  delight  in  an 
oasis  on  the  desert! 

"  Life  at  a  frontier  post  is  not  very  exciting,  and 
after  a  while  it  becomes  monotonous,  but  every 
little  incident  is  made  as  much  of  as  possible, 
and  all  endeavor  to  contribute  to  the  general  well- 
being  of  the  garrison.  The  menu  of  the  officers' 
mess  had  been  quite  simple,  but  sometime  before 
my  arrival  a  party  of  emigrants  passed  by  the  post 
with  a  lame  cow,  which  they  offered  for  sale,  and 
this  valuable  creature  became  the  prize  and  the 
pride  of  the  officers'  mess.  At  considerable  expense 
a  bag  of  Indian  meal  had  been  procured  from  the 
settlement,  and  when  I  reached  Fort  C.  the  mess 
was  luxuriating  in  mush  and  milk  for  supper  every 
evening.  How  delicious  it  tasted;  hot  and  whole- 
some, a  feast  for  the  gods  it  seemed  to  us  who  were 


184 


used  to  hardtack  and  army  bacon,  with  coffee  with- 
out cream,  as  we  called  our  morning  drink.  In- 
deed, we  seldom  had  condensed  milk  for  it,  but  now 
here  was  a  real,  live,  milch  cow,  and  good,  pure 
milk,  better  than  most  can  get  from  your  milkman 
in  the  midst  of  civilization  nowadays.  You  can 
imagine  what  a  treat  this  was  for  us.  Sometimes 
we  enjoyed  a  roast  of  antelope,  but  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  shoot  these  pretty  creatures  as  one  might 
think ;  even  forty-five  years  ago  they  gave  the  hunter 
plenty  of  hard  work. 

We  started  out,  my  friend  and  I,  one  afternoon 
to  try  for  some  antelope  meat  for  the  mess.  By 
hard  work  and  careful  hunting  we  each  had  a  shot 
at  some  beautiful  creatures.  My  friend's  shot 
proved  better  than  mine,  and  while  he  started  off 
after  his  wounded  antelope  I  sought  for  another 
chance.  The  antelope  escaped,  and  when  I  turned 
to  join  my  companion  I  could  not  find  him.  I  star- 
ted in  what  I  thought  was  the  direction  of  the  post, 
but  began  to  lose  my  bearings,  and  at  last  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  was,  indeed,  lost  on  the  plains. 
Night  was  coming  on  rapidly.  I  tried  to  find  some 
familiar  landmark  from  the  highest  ground  I  could 
reach,  but  all  was  strange  and  bewildering,  and  the 
sense  of  being  lost  and  in  danger  came  over  me.  I 
dared  not  wander  further  lest  I  should  increase  the 
distance  between  myself  and  friend. 

I  examined  my  carbine  and  counted  my  car- 
tridges. I  had  seven  shots  left,  none  too  many  for 
one  in  my  position.  The  Indians  roamed  up  and 
down  through  this  section  all  Winter,  and  although 
they  were  theoretically  at  peace,  my  chances  for 
fair    treatment    were    very    slim    indeed.     I    should 


185 


probably  have  been  murdered  for  the  sake  of  my 
carbine  and  clothing  if  not  for  my  poor  scalp.  All 
these  thoughts  intruded  themselves,  besides  visions 
of  wild  beasts.  Then  I  began  to  feel  cold  and 
hungry,  and  to  my  dismay  I  discovered  that  I  had 
not  one  solitary  match  left. 

The  loneliness  and  the  darkness  increased.  I  be- 
gan to  search  for  some  hiding  place  to  shelter  me 
until  morning,  and  I  ventured  to  run  towards  a 
little  hollow.  I  was  feeling  very  lonely,  and  I  tried 
not  to  remember  the  stories  of  men  lost  on  the 
plains,  but  they  would  come  up  before  my  mind. 
I  felt  certain  that  my  only  safety  was  to  be  very 
self-possessed  and  brave.  I  might  be  quite  near 
the  post,  and  when  Lieut.  Q.  returned  he  would 
surely  send  out  searching  parties.  Oh,  if  I  only 
had  a  match  I  would  build  a  fire  to  guide  them; 
it  was  getting  so  dark  I  feared  they  could  not  find 
me.  I  debated  whether  or  not  I  should  part  with 
one  of  my  precious  shots,  and  I  decided  that  I 
would  climb  to  the  top  of  the  little  rise  of  ground 
and  fire  my  evening  gun.  I  could  not  get  material 
together  sufficiently  dry  to  fire  with  the  shot  from 
my  carbine. 

Slowly  I  climbed  the  little  hill,  and  praying  God 
to  send  me  relief,  I  fired  my  carbine  in  the  air. 
Like  an  answer  from  heaven  came  a  low  boom  from 
the  distance.  I  must  have  imagined  it,  I  thought, 
it  is  the  mocking  echo  of  my  carbine;  but  it  did 
sound  like  a  cannon.  Boom  came  the  gladdening 
sound  again,  and  straining  my  eyes  over  the  hori- 
zon I  saw — oh,  what  a  joyful  sight  to  me — a  bright 
light,  a  fire.  How  can  it  be  in  that  direction,  just 
the  opposite  from  what  I  believed  the  post  to  be  in. 


186 


Boom  came  the  gun  again,  and  with  a  happy,  thank- 
ful heart  I  ran  fast  enough  to  rival  an  antelope 
toward  the  light,  the  "Star  of  hope"  to  me.  In  a 
short  time  I  saw  figures  approaching;  they  were  sol- 
diers searching  for  me,  sent  by  our  kind  command- 
ing officer.     I  was  saved. 

It  was  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears  of  joy  and 
gratitude,  but  it  was  dark,  and  I  pretended  to  take 
matters  very  coolly.  I  feared,  too,  that  I  might  be 
well  blamed  for  the  trouble  I  had  given,  and  the 
story  of  the  lost  boy  came  to  my  mind.  On  reach- 
ing the  post,  however,  I  found  all  glad  to  see  me 
safely  back  again  and  the  delicious  mush  and  milk 
was  waiting,  to  which  I  did  full  justice  with  a 
grateful  heart. 

So  much  for  antelope  hunting.  A  much  safer 
sport  was  poisoning  wolves  which  we  accomplished 
in  the  following  manner:  The  great  "loafer  wolves," 
or  "gray  wolves"  as  they  are  more  commonly 
known,  roamed  about  the  post  every  night.  They 
were  not  only  annoying  by  their  howling,  but  they 
were  most  accomplished  thieves.  Their  hides  were 
then  worth  $1  skinned  or  75  cents  on  the  dead 
animal.  The  wolves  roamed  generally  near  the 
corral.  We  planted  a  post  in  the  ground,  and  high 
up  out  of  reach  of  the  wolves  we  tied  a  large  and 
tempting  bone,  on  which  we  left  considerable  meat. 
Pieces  of  meat  from  three  to  four  inches  long  we 
cut  nearly  in  half,  and  in  the  slit  thus  fashioned 
we  placed  a  good  quantity  of  strychnine.  We  scat- 
tered many  of  these  pieces  on  the  ground  not  far 
from  the  post  from  which  the  bone  was  hanging. 
We  made  these  preparations  at  sundown. 

18T 


During  the  night  the  wolves  would  come,  and 
finding  the  poisoned  meat  devour  it  greedily  until 
it  was  all  gone.  Then  scenting  the  meat  and  bone 
on  the  post,  they  would  sit  down  and  deliberate 
how  that  was  to  be  obtained.  They  were  too  hungry 
to  leave  such  a  tempting  morsel,  and  it  was  hard 
for  them  to  believe  that  it  could  not  be  gotten  by 
patience.  While  waiting  the  poison  would  begin 
to  operate,  and  with  a  howl  the  wolves  would  start 
off  in  pain,  only  to  run  a  short  distance  before  they 
fell  dead.  In  the  morning  we  would  find  their 
bodies,  frozen  stiff,  not  many  yards  from  the  post. 
If  we  did  not  use  this  method  of  retaining  them 
until  the  poison  acted  upon  them  fatally  they  might 
run  off  a  mile  or  more  before  death,  and  give  us 
some  trouble  in  hunting  up  their  bodies.  The  sport 
proved  quite  profitable,  although  strychnine  was 
very  expensive  at  that  time  at  Fort  C. 

One  day  our  mail-rider,  who  went  once  a  week 
to  the  stage  station,  12  miles  away,  was  taken  sick, 
and  I  volunteered  to  go  in  his  place,  and  received 
the  commanding  officer's  permission.  I  started  out 
with  my  mail-bag  in  the  morning,  mounted  on  an 
excellent  mule,  and  reached  the  station  in  time  for 
dinner.  After  getting  the  return  mail  I  rode  off 
for  the  post  again.  It  was  a  clear,  mild  afternoon 
in  February,  and  my  mule  started  off  briskly  for 
home.  We  had  made  more  than  half  the  distance 
when,  upon  riding  down  into  a  little  hollow,  my 
mule  suddenly  stopped  and  appeared  to  be  in  ter- 
ror. I  urged  her  forward,  but  she  would  not  move. 
All  at  once  it  occurred  to  me  that  mules  have  a 
dread  of  Indians,  and  can  smell  them  for  some  dis- 
tance.    This,  then,  must  be  the  cause  of  my  mule's 

188 


alarm.  There  were  Indians  in  ambush  ahead,  and 
being  in  ambush,  they  meant  me  no  good. 

I  hastily  unslung  and  brought  my  carbine  to  a 
ready,  and  urged  my  frightened  mule  back  to  the 
rising  ground.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write 
this  I  heard  a  noise  in  the  bushes  and  out  sprang, 
not  some  painted  warriors,  as  my  frightened  senses 
supposed  would  appear,  but  some  antelopes,  which 
bounded  away  and  were  soon  out  of  range  before 
I  could  recover  from  my  fright.  They  had  evi- 
dently been  caught  napping,  something  that  rarely 
happens  to  an  antelope.  My  mule  recognized  them 
as  soon  as  I  did  and  looked  rather  ashamed,  for 
frightening  me  in  that  rough  way.  But  I  was  glad 
to  forgive  her,  and  happier  still  to  reach  the  fort 
safely  at  last,  where  I  gave  up  my  precious  mail- 
bag  to  cheer  the  hearts  of  the  garrison  with  news 
of  loved  ones  far  away. 

My  visit,  like  all  other  pleasures,  had  an  end,  and 
I  parted  from  my  kind  friends  with  great  regret. 
Civilization  has  advanced  so  rapidly  that  probably 
no  vestige  of  the  old  frontier  fortified  camp  remains 
to-day.  The  garrivson  has  been  scattered  in  every 
direction,  and  it  is  hardly  possible  that  these  lines 
will  ever  reach  the  eyes  of  any  of  those  who  con- 
tributed so  much  of  kindness  and  hospitality  to  the 
writer.  It  will  be  a  long  time  indeed  before  I  for- 
get my  adventures  in  old  Colorado! 


189 


ON  THE  ARKANSAW  IN  '67. 


Guard  mount  was  over,  this  lovely  spring  morn- 
ing, at  old  Fort  Lyon,  and  upon  the  broad  veran- 
das of  the  officer's  quarters,  along  the  line  over- 
looking the  parade  ground,  were  gathered  some  of 
the  ladies  and  officers  of  the  post,  discussing  the 
startling  newa  which  had  just  been  received  con- 
cerning the  Indians. 

While  at  the  garrison  all  seemed  peaceful  and 
secure,  it  was  reported  that  along  the  Arkansaw, 
and  more  particularly  at  the  ford  near  Bent's  Fort, 
the  hostile  Indians  were  attacking  every  wagon  train 
that  attempted  to  make  a  crossing. 

To  check  their  lawless  interference  and  to  pro- 
tect emigrants  from  these  Indian  attacks,  the 
commanding  officer  of  Fort  Lyon  had  been  directed 
to  detail  an  officer  and  ten  men  to  hold  the  ford, 
and  young  Bradstreet,  a  recent  arrival  from  West 
Point,  had  been  selected  for  this  hazardous  and  im- 
portant undertaking. 

The  Adjutant  had  given  the  officer  his  first  orders 
for  field  service,  and  with  a  few  hurried  partings 
to  friends  and  comrades  he  turned  his  steps  toward 
his  own  quarters  to  prepare  for  his  departure.  As 
he  donned  his  scouting  uniform  and  made  his  prep- 
arations, an  old  friend,  his  First  Lieutenant,  Dick 
Trumbull,    entered    the    room.      "Bradstreet,"    he 


190 


said,  "its  hard  luck  for  you  to  have  such  a  detail. 
I  offered  to  go,  but  Capt.  Walker  had  determined 
to  send  you,  and  so  there  is  no  help  for  it." 

The  written  order  lying  on  his  table  stated  the 
facts  plainly  enough — "To  proceed  immediately  by 
wagon,  with  Sergt.  Mason  and  nine  men  of  B  Troop 
of  the  gallant  old  Third  Cavalry,  to  a  certain  desig- 
nated ford  of  the  Arkansaw,  there  to  intrench  him- 
self as  best  he  might,  and  hold  the  Sante  Fe  trail 
open. ' ' 

With  ten  men  to  hold  open  the  trail  and  guard 
the  ford  in  a  war  such  as  this,  with  all  the  Indian 
tribes  united — it  seemed  a  very  thankless  post  for 
even  an  ambitious  young  soldier. 

Hardly  had  Bradstreet  made  his  hasty  prepara- 
tions, when  the  great  army  wagon  drove  up;  it  was 
loaded  with  rations,  tents,  arms  and  ammunition, 
and  escorted  by  a  dozen  mounted  troopers. 

The  "dismounted  detail"  got  into  the  wagon  and 
awaited  the  order  to  march. 

A  few  final  instructions  from  the  Post  Adjutant, 
and  the  command  started  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
eastward  trail. 

Shortly  after  noon,  the  conunand  made  a  halt, 
and  then  pushed  on  again  in  the  direction  of  the 
ford. 

It  was  long  after  dark  before  their  destination 
was  reached.  The  command  halted  and  camped 
without  tents  or  fire.  Pickets  were  stationed,  the 
horses  were  tied  to  the  tongue  and  wheels  of  the 
wagon,  and  every  precaution  taken  to  avoid  a  sur- 
prise. The  most  dreaded  time  for  Indian  attack  is 
in  the  early  dawn ;  then  the  Indians,  hoping  to  sur- 


191 


prise  a  sleeping  command,  steal  noiselessly  in  the 
dim  light  to  make  a  stampede. 

At  3  o'clock  next  morning  all  were  astir. 
Belcher,  the  officer  in  command  of  the  escort,  with 
Bradstreet,  sought  out  a  suitable  position  for  the 
station. 

After  breakfast  all  hands  were  at  work,  throwing 
up  a  breastwork  to  surround  the  three  tents  to  be 
occupied  by  the  detail. 

The  situation  was  well  chosen  on  a  high  bank  of 
the  Arkansaw  overlooking  the  ford. 

A  commanding  view  of  the  country  about  could 
be  had  in  almost  every  direction. 

The  vast  rolling  prairie  stretched  out  like  the 
ocean  to  the  east,  to  the  north,  to  the  west,  and  over 
the  river  to  the  south. 

By  noon  the  station  on  the  "Arkansaw"  was  com- 
pleted. No  flag-staff  to  be  sure  was  there,  but  quite 
a  fort  nevertheless  it  was  in  appearance,  with  'its 
quaker  guns  of  wagon  hubs  frowning  from  em- 
brasures. Its  little  garrison  of  eleven  brave  hearts 
would  undoubtedly  do  its  best  to  hold  its  own  in 
case  of  emergency. 

The  escort  was  soon  in  saddle,  and  with  the 
empty  wagon  they  rode  away,  leaving  the  lonely 
detachment  of  the  Fourth  to  its  fate.  Night  settled 
down  upon  the  plains,  the  sentries  began  their  watch 
and  the  first  day's  duties  were  ended. 

The  Sergeant's  voice,  next  morning,  was  their 
only  reveille.  In  this  lonely  spot  there  would  be 
nothing  to  break  the  monotony  unless  diversion 
supplied  by  the  Indians. 

Day  after  day  the  walls  were  added  to  or  strength- 
ened.    Everything  was  done  to  suggest  the  appear- 


192 


ance  of  a  garrison  of  some  size.  Twice  a  day  the 
whole  command,  except  one  sentry,  who  marched 
about  in  plain  sight,  went  down  to  the  river  with 
pails  and  canteens  for  water.  They  left  their  car- 
bines in  the  fort,  but  concealed  under  their  coats 
they  carried  their  revolvers.  This  was  a  risky  thing 
to  do,  but  was  kept  up  out  of  pure  bravado. 

On  the  third  day  a  strong  emigrant  party  passed 
the  station,  crossing  the  ford  to  the  southward. 

On  the  fourth  they  were  enabled  to  send  word  to 
Fort  Lyon,  reporting  all  well,  the  pony  express 
rider  having  made  a  short  halt.  He  reported  In- 
dians all  the  way  from  Fort  Hayes. 

On  the  fifth  day  several  parties  of  Indians  were 
seen. 

On  the  seventh,  the  numbers  of  the  Indians  had 
decidedly  increased.  In  the  afternoon  of  that  day 
three  or  four  Sioux  approached  within  hailing  dis- 
tance, waving  a  white  flag.  Bradstreet  boldly  ad- 
vanced to  meet  them.  A  half-breed  came  forward 
alone  for  a  parley.  He  asked  for  provisions  and 
tobacco,  wanted  to  know  how  many  soldiers  were  in 
the  fort. 

Bradstreet  informed  him  that  they  had  no  pro- 
visions to  give  or  sell,  and  that  the  garrison  at  the 
fort  was  sufficient  to  hold  it  against  all  comers. 
Finally  a  demand  for  the  surrender  of  the  arms 
was  made,  and  meeting  with  an  emphatic  refusal, 
the  half-breed,  muttering  threats  as  to  what  would 
be  the  fate  of  the  soldiers,  returned  to  his  com- 
panions. 

As  Bradstreet  entered  the  works,  a  bullet  plowed 
into  the  earth,  close  to  his  side.  Instantly,  from 
every   direction,   the   Indians   seemed   to   rise   from 


the  ground.  Arrows  and  bullets  were  flying  through 
the  air,  and  although  there  were  one  or  two  narrow 
escapes,  no  member  of  the  garrison  was  injured. 

Dawn  of  the  next  day  found  the  little  command 
on  the  alert  awaiting  the  threatened  attack.  From 
the  east  and  north,  warriors  decked  with  war  paint 
and  feathers,  ready  for  battle,  were  seen  in  large 
numbers.  A  hundred  or  more  were  preparing  for 
an  assault. 

Shortly  after  eight  o'clock  the  Indians  employed 
tactics  of  an  unusual  nature. 

They  made  a  determined  advance,  forming  in  an 
oblong  mass  seven  or  eight  deep.  With  whoops  and 
war  songs  they  came  on  steadily  to  within  150  yards 
of  the  fort.  Bradstreet  cautioned  his  men  not  to 
fire  a  shot  until  they  could  be  sure  of  a  good  target. 
Suddenly  the  Indians,  opening  up  their  lines  and 
spreading  right  and  left,  poured  in  a  volley  of  ar- 
roW;S  and  bullets  upon  the  little  garrison.  Corp. 
Welch  and  Private  Andrews  were  instantly  killed 
and  one  or  two  were  wounded,  but  so  rapid  and 
deadly  was  the  fire  of  the  garrison  that  they  were 
unable  to  reach  the  works  and  fled  in  disorder. 

There  was  more  or  less  firing  throughout  the  day 
until  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  the 
Indians  once  more  advanced  deployed  as  skirmish- 
ers in  a  semi-circle.  War  drums  and  whoops  and 
yells  made  a  hideous  racket. 

As  they  approached  the  fort  the  line  drew  closer 
together,  until  with  one  desperate  efl^ort  they  en- 
deavored to  scale  the  works.  So  vigorously  did  they 
carry  on  this  charge  that  one  Indian  actually  fell 
dead   within   the   inclosure.     A   fierce   hand-to-hand 


194 


fight  took  place  and  for  a  few  moments  it  seemed 
as  if  the  fate  of  the  little  garrison  were  sealed. 

But  this  time  their  rout  seemed  to  be  complete. 
They  were  seen  to  carry  off  several  of  their  dead 
and  wounded. 

Bradstreet  and  two  of  his  men  were  badly  wound- 
ed; the  former  had  an  ugly  wound  in  the  shoulder 
from  a  rifle  bullet,  and  from  pain  and  loss  of  blood 
was  no  longer  able  to  stand  upon  his  feet. 

Just  after  sundown  three  shrill  whistles  were 
heard  in  the  direction  of  the  ford.  Sergt.  Mason 
hailed:  "Who  goes  there?"  '*A  friend,  William 
Dixon,  a  Government  scout;  can  I  approach?" 
Three  men  with  cocked  carbines  stood  at  the  rear 
entrance;  there  was  just  light  enough  to  see  the 
man.  The  scout  entered.  A  glance  showed  that 
he  had  been  through  hard  service.  He  was  taken 
to  Bradstreet,  who,  propped  against  the  wall,  lis- 
tened to  what  he  had  to  say. 

"I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Cimmaron  Crossing  with 
dispatches  for  Fort  Riley,  when  I  met  these  Indians 
whom  you  have  been  fighting.  They  killed  my 
horse,  and  I  have  an  ugly  scratch  on  my  arm.  My 
rifle  is  broken  and  abandoned,  but  I  managed  to 
escape  from  them,  and  have  worked  my  way  to  your 
fort.     I  can  at  least  add  one  to  your  number." 

"You  are  more  than  welcome,"  said  Bradstreet, 
"We  are  sorely  pressed,  and  I  fear  cannot  hold  our 
ground  much  longer." 

"Well,  Lieutenant,  my  legs  are  in  good  order, 
and  if  you  wish  I'll  try  to  get  through  to  Lyon 
and  bring  you  relief." 

"Take  what  rest  yovi  must  have,  get  something 
to  eat  and  let  me  know  when  you  are  ready  to  start. ' ' 

195 


Bradstreet  drew  a  notebook  from  his  pocket,  and 
wrote  the  following  dispatch  by  the  light  of  a  candle 
carefully  shielded. 

"Carson's  Ford,  on  the  Arkansaw, 
May  17,  1867. 
To  Col.  Peters,  Commanding  Officer, 

Fort  Lyon,  Colorado : 
Sir; — We   are   surrounded   by   Indians.     Two   of 
my  command  are  killed,  and  three  wounded.     Please 
send  relief,  with  surgeon,  as  soon  as  possible.     I  send 
this  by  Government  Scout  Dixon. 

Wm.  Bradstreet, 
Second  Lieutenant  Third  Cavalry. 

U.  S.  A." 

"Dixon  here  is  a  dispatch  for  the  Commanding 
Officer  at  Fort  Lyon.  Endeavor  to  get  through  with 
it  as  rapidly  as  possible.  Secrete  it  in  your  cloth- 
ing, and  if  captured  make  every  effort  to  destroy 
this  paper.  Our  only  hope  is  that  you  may  get 
through  in  safety.  Good  night  and  a  safe  journey 
to  you!" 

The  scout  placed  the  message  between  the  folds 
of  the  collar  of  his  hunting  shirt  and  with  a  deter- 
mined look  on  his  honest  face  he  waved  a  farewell 
to  the  little  garrison  and  started  for  the  river.  The 
darkness  and  the  silence  of  the  night  instantly  en- 
veloped him.  He  was  gone  on  his  desperate  errand, 
and  the  fate  of  the  garrison  depended  upon  his 
success.  No  fire  could  be  lighted,  no  match  could 
be  struck  for  even  the  smoke  so  dear  to  the  soldiers' 
heart.  In  silence  and  anxiety  they  awaited  the 
dawn  of  another  day. 


196 


Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  ,by  poor  Whit- 
man, who,  in  delirium  from  want  of  water  and  loss 
of  blood,  was  heard  singing: 

"Fierce  and  long  the  battle  rages. 

But  our  help  is  near. 
Onward  comes  our  Great  Commander! 

Cheer!  my  comrades,  cheer! 
Hold  the  fort " 

But  the  song  died  upon  his  lips,  his  head  sank 
upon  his  manly  chest,  his  battles  were  over.  All 
the  weary  night  the  faithful  little  garrison  got  what 
rest  they  could,  waiting  for  the  dawn  to  put  an  end 
to  their  sufferings.  'Either  relief  must  arrive  or  the 
Indians  would  close  in  upon  them  and  end  the 
struggle. 

Bradstreet  acted  as  best  he  could,  going  over  the 
situation  in  his  mind  as  to  the  chances  of  his  brave 
scout's  reaching  Fort  Lyon.  Of  course,  it  would 
take  just  so  many  hours  for  relief  to  reach  them 
after  news  of  their  situation  had  been  reported. 

Day  dawned  and  the  expected  attack  did  not  take 
place.  All  was  silence,  and  to  all  appearances  the 
Indians  had  left  them.  Every  man  who  could  stand 
up  volunteered  to  go  for  the  needed  water. 

But  Bradstreet,  still  clinging  to  the  hope  of  re- 
lief, refused  to  risk  one  more  of  his  gallant  garrison. 
Too  well  he  knew  the  cunning  treachery  of  his  foes. 
Fainting  from  the  loss  of  blood  and  the  pain  of  his 
wound,  he  could  yet  give  to  his  men  some  words 
of  hope  and  cheer.  The  carbines  and  pistols  were 
carefully  inspected,  the  ammunition  counted  and 
examined,  and  a  grim  determination  settled  on  each 
and  every  man  to  do  his  duty  to  the  last.     Shortly 


197 


after  noon  Williams,  shading  his  eyes  and  peering 
to  the  northeastward,  has  pointed  out  to  Johnson 
a  little  cloud.  ''It  may  be  a  buffalo,  more  Indians, 
or  it  may  be  relief."  But  to  the  right,  the  hellish 
tum,  turn,  tum,  of  the  war  drum  is  sounding  again. 
The  Indians  are  advancing  once  more.  Widely  de- 
ployed as  skirmishers,  they  cautiously  avoid  ex- 
posure. Once  more  is  heard — the  half-breed's  taun- 
ting demands  for  surrender.  Once  more  they  are 
asked  to  "come  out  and  throw  up  your  arms,"  and 
now  with  a  rush  they  come  within  range  of  the 
troopers. 

The  carbines  of  the  garrison  are  aimed  steadily 
and  to  good  purpose. 

Again  the  enemy  seek  shelter  and  extend  their 
line  further  to  the  westward.  Bradstreet,  strug- 
gling to  keep  upon  his  knees,  slowly  falls  to  his  side, 
dropping  his  carbine.  The  yells  are  renewed;  and 
at  the  same  time  is  heard  the  well-known  cheer — 
out  from  behind  the  hill  ride  the  bluecoated  troopers 
of  "the  gallant  Third."  A  few  seconds  of  sharp 
firing,  with  scattering,  baffled  savages  everywhere 
in  retreat.  Trumbull,  at  the  head  of  his  men, 
reaches  the  wall.  Dismounting,  he  enters  the  little 
fort.  In  an  instant  he  is  at  Bradstreet 's  side.  He 
grasps  his  comrade's  hand.  He  kneels  at  his  side 
and  calls  into  the  almost  unconscious  ear:  "Brad- 
street, my  boy,  you  are  saved;  do  you  hear  me? 
You  are  saved."  A  grateful  light  shines  upon  the 
face  of  the  commander.  He  cannot  speak.  Some  of 
the  garrison  try  to  cheer.  The  tension  is  tremen- 
dous. It  would  seem  as  if  they  must  fall. 
"Water!"  cry  the  wounded,  and  willing  hands  as- 
sist the  surgeon  in  his  errand  of  mercy.     Trumbull 


198 


is  now  in  command,  with  Belcher  to  assist.  The 
horses  are  securely  picketed  close  to  the  west- 
ward wall.  Strong  guards  are  posted,  and  order 
soon  reigns.  With  forty  good  troopers  and  Lieu- 
tenants TnunbuU  and  Belcher  to  direct  them,  there 
is  little  fear  of  the  Indians  now.  Good  Dr. 
Warren  has  made  the  wounded  as  comfortable  as 
possible.  The  dead  have  been  reverently  buried 
with  a  parting  volley,  and  the  trumpeter  has  sounded 
the  last  call. 

Night  closes  the  scene,  and  the  garrison,  after  the 
anxiety  and  work  of  the  day,  enjoy  a  needed  rest. 

Next  morning  the  wounded  are  carefully  placed 
in  the  ambulance  and  the  command  begins  its  re- 
turn march  to  Fort  Lyon,  Belcher  and  twenty  troop- 
ers remaining  behind. 

There  is  no  sign  of  Indians  in  any  direction ;  they 
have  departed  for  parts  unknown. 

Slowly  the  command  covered  the  distance  to  the 
fort,  escorted  part  way  by  the  officers  of  the  garrison, 
who  had  ridden  out  to  meet  them.  The  wounded 
men  were  taken  to  the  hospital,  and  Bradstreet  to 
his  quarters,  where  in  a  few  days  he  recovered  suf- 
ficiently to  walk  about  the  post  with  his  arm  in  a 
sling. 

A  few  days  more  of  convalescence,  then  he  was 
restored  to  B  troop  for  duty,  and  the  fight  at  the 
fort  on  the  Arkansaw  became  but  a  vision  of  the 
past. 


199 


ON  THE  LITTLE  BIG  HORN  IN  '76. 


Dr.  Porter,  then  acting  assistant  surgeon  in  the 
United  States  army,  was  left  with  Reno  when  Custer 
divided  his  troops  of  the  gallant  Seventh  Cavalry. 
The  detachment  crossing  the  Little  Big  Horn  took  a 
strong  position  in  a  clump  of  woods;  but  such  vast 
numbers  of  the  savages  loomed  up  in  every  direction 
that  Reno  decided  to  start  for  the  river. 

Dr.  Porter  was  attending  to  a  dying  soldier,  but 
he  found  that  in  an  instant  his  orderly  and  sup- 
plies were  gone.  He  was  alone,  with  the  command 
several  hundred  yards  away.  He  still  devoted  him- 
self to  his  patient,  until  the  soldier's  death  left  him 
free  to  consider  himself  and  his  own  safety. 

Leading  his  horse  to  the  embankment  beyond  the 
woods,  he  was  startled  to  find  himself  within  close 
proximity  to  the  Indians,  who  were  in  swift  pur- 
suit of  Reno's  command.  So  eager  were  they  in 
the  chase  that  they  did  not  notice  Porter,  although 
passing  within  a  few  feet  of  him.  Even  had  he 
been  armed,  he  could  not  for  a  moment  have  held 
out  against  such  odds,  and  the  only  hope  remaining 
to  him  was  to  mount  his  splendid  charger,  which, 
mad  with  excitement,  was  rearing  and  plunging. 
He  held  to  the  rein  with  all  his  strength,  making 
frantic  efforts  to  gain  his  saddle.  At  last,  with  a 
desperate  leap,  he  gained  his  horse's  back. 


200 


Half-seated  in  the  saddle,  and  clinging  with  all 
his  might  to  save  himself  from  falling,  he  sped 
along  in  a  race  of  life  and  death.  In  an  instant 
the  savages  espied  him,  and  with  a  yell  they  sent 
after  him  a  shower  of  bullets  from  rifle  and  re- 
volver, which  in  some  marvelous  manner  missed  both 
horse  and  rider.  On,  on,  he  dashed,  each  moment 
bringing  him  nearer  to  safety.  It  was  a  long  half 
mile!  The  surgeon  had  no  control  of  his  frantic 
horse,  and  he  was  running  a  gauntlet  where  the 
chances  of  death  were  a  thousand  to  one. 

He  at  last  reached  the  river  in  safety,  and  in  a 
few  moments  had  forded  the  stream,  scaled  the  bank, 
and  was  on  the  bluff,  where  Reno  was  entrenching 
himself. 

About  them  in  every  direction  the  bluffs  and  the 
plains  were  black  with  Sioux.  The  Indians  poured 
in  a  terrific  fire  upon  the  harassed  troopers.  The 
surgeon's  services  were  instantly  in  urgent  demand. 
Brave,  cool,  and  devoted,  he  showed  the  true  hero- 
ism of  the  medical  man  in  peril. 

For  twenty-four  hours  this  terrible  ordeal  con- 
tinued. One  in  every  three  had  been  hit;  there 
were  fifty  dead  and  fifty  wounded.  The  brave  but 
well-nigh  exhausted  surgeon  continued  to  admin- 
ister to  the  wants  of  his  patients,  who  were  crying 
in  agony  for  water. 

Through  the  afternoon  of  the  25th  of  June,  1876, 
all  through  the  dreadful  night  following,  throughout 
the  day  of  the  26th  and  that  night  as  well,  and  until 
the  forenoon  of  the  27th,  Porter  discharged  his  duties 
as  few  men  have  been  called  upon  to  do. 


201 


A  TROOPER  OF  THE  GALLANT 

OLD  3rd  CAVALRY  WORSTED 

BY  A  HORSE. 


The  affair  took  place  some  time  in  the  summer 
of  1867,  when  a  command  of  the  Third  United  States 
Cavalry  was  marching  through  the  Indian  country, 
or  the  great  desert  of  what  is  now  Kansas.  We  had 
a  command  of  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  officers 
and  men.  Besides  more  than  a  hundred  wagons 
and  ambulances,  we  started  with  nearly  five  hun- 
dred extra  cavalry  horses  for  supplying  cavalry  in 
New  Mexico.  The  command  left  Fort  Leavenworth, 
Kansas,  in  May,  and  reached  Fort  Union  in  New 
Mexico  the  middle  or  latter  part  of  July.  The  year 
1867  was  a  "lively"  one  on  the  great  plains.  All 
the  Indian  tribes  were  on  the  war-path  and  fighting 
in  concert  against  the  pale-faces.  We  marched  as 
through  an  enemy's  country,  with  caution  and  alert- 
ness, forming  a  protecting  corral  with  wagons 
constantly,  like  the  laagers  of  the  Boers  in 
war.  We  followed  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail,  and  along 
the  "Arkansaw"  we  had  need  of  all  the  wisdom 
and  skill  our  brave  commanding  officer.  Major  Whit- 
ing, possessed.  The  Indians  were  active  and  con- 
stantly threatening,  and  at  the  Cimmaron  crossing 
our  chances  seemed  at  one  time  well  calculated  to 
cause  anxiety. 

202 


In  spite  of  the  presence  of  our  Indian  foes,  ever 
dogging  our  footsteps  and  watching  for  an  oppor- 
tunity for  successful  attack,  many  of  the  recruits 
deserted,  carrying  off  horses  and  arms.  Many  of 
these  recruits  were  regular  adventurous  horse  tliieves, 
who  had  enlisted  at  Carlisle  Barracks,  Pennsylvania, 
and  who  expected  opportunities  to  reach  the  fron- 
tier and  steal  horses  and  arms.  Indeed,  they  had 
planned  to  rob  the  paymaster  and  to  carry  off  his 
wagon  and  safe,  which  was  supposed  to  contain 
many  thousands  of  dollars.  So  frequent  were  the 
desertions,  and  so  great  was  the  loss  of  horses,  that 
new  mounts  were  constantly  in  demand,  and  that 
is  how  the  splendid,  great,  iron-gray,  cavalry  horse 
was  discovered.  The  first  recruit  'who!  attempted 
to  ride  him  got  off  in  some  manner  unknown  to  cav- 
alry regulations,  and  after  several  others  had  made 
an  effort  to  stay  on  his  back  he  was  declared  to  be 
a  bad  horse,  and  was  for  a  time  left  alone.  Finally 
one  of  the  non-commissioned  officers,  a  strong,  hand- 
some cavalryman,  asked  permission  of  the  command- 
ing officer  to  ride  the  horse.  It  was  granted  with 
considerable  hesitancy,  and  the  whole  command 
turned  out  to  see  what  was  pretty  certain  to  be  a 
life-and-death  struggle  between  man  and  horse. 
The  charger  was  a  picture  to  look  at;  he  was  a 
powerful  beast,  iron-gray,  with  an  eye  like  an 
eagle's,  and  with  a  carriage  which  made  him  fit  for 
a  prince,  if  any  prince  on  earth  could  but  ride  him. 
The  sergeant  was  as  perfect  a  manly  figure  of  cour- 
age, intelligence,  and  physical  strength  as  the  beast 
in  his  equine  beauty.  They  eyed  each  other  for  an 
instant,  when  with  a  firm  bound  the  soldier  seated 
himself  in  the  McClellan  saddle.     Then  the  battle 


203 


began  in  earnest,  rider  and  horse  exerting  every 
skill  imaginable  to  triumph.  In  spite  of  plunge  and 
leap  the  soldier  kept  his  splendid  seat,  proud  mas- 
ter of  the  beast  beneath  him.  The  battle  lasted  sev- 
eral minutes  and  was  a  fierce  encounter.  Every- 
man who  looked  on  was  proud  of  the  manly  prow- 
ess of  the  soldier.  The  horse  was  in  a  fury  of 
despair,  and  finally  with  one  mad  dash  he  flung 
himself  upon  the  ground  and  rolled  over  the  body 
of  his  fallen  rider.  A  cry  of  horror  and  distress 
rose  from  the  spectators,  and  we  rushed  forward  to 
bear  the  body  of  the  unconscious  horseman  to  the 
hospital  tent.  Not  a  bone  was  broken,  but  upon 
examination  we  found  the  soldier  had  sustained 
serious  injuries.  When  the  man  was  able  to  be 
about  it  was  evident  that  his  days  of  usefulness  as 
a  soldier  were  past,  and  he  received  a  discharge. 

The  horse  lost  the  fire  in  his  eye,  and  was  after 
the  battle  a  cowed  and  subdued  creature  any  recruit 
could  ride. 

It  was  a  duel  as  complete  and  perfect  as  if  it  had 
been  fought  with  swords;  it  was  a  wrestling  match 
in  which  both  contestants  were  hopelessly  worsted. 


204 


THE  TEMPERANCE   QUESTION  IN 
THE  ARMY. 


Fort  Ciimmings,  New  Mexico,  built  of  adobe  "sun- 
burnt bricks"  in  1866,  and  abandoned  years 
ago,  was  a  type  of  frontier  stations  or  forts  which 
have  pretty  nearly  ceased  to  exist.  Far  to  the  south- 
ward of  the  dreary  "Valley  of  Death,"  marking  the 
continuation  of  Jornada  del  Muerto — "journey  of 
death" — a  speck  in  the  great  lonely  desert,  it  nes- 
tled as  if  clinging  for  safety  at  the  foot  of  Cook's 
Peak.  Beyond  Cummings  in  almost  every  direction 
stretched  the  great  prairies,  but  to  the  southwestward, 
beyond  the  Sentinel  Mountain — the  mouth  of  the 
lonely  Canon — showed  the  trail  to  Fort  Bayard, 
another  "doby  fort."  From  the  land  of  the  Chip- 
pewas  and  the  Sioux,  to  the  fastnesses  of  the  uncon- 
querable Apaches,  from  the  deadly  Smoky  Hill  far 
over  the  Pacific  slope,  little  forts  garrisoned  by  one 
or  two  companies  of  soldiers  guarded  the  cradle  of 
western  empire  and  shielded  the  emigrant  from  the 
cruel  and  warlike  Indian. 

From  West  Point  were  sent  out  to  these  dreary 
posts  the  very  best  specimens  of  manhood — eager 
for  military  glory,  but  soon  homesick  and  disgusted 
with  frontier  life.  The  soldiers,  although  brave  and 
competent  in  active  service,  fretted  at  their  useless, 

205 


aimless  existence,  as  it  seemed  to  them,  and  thought 
little  and  cared  less  as  to  their  own  or  their  country 's 
future  if  they  could  only  ' '  kill  time. ' '  Visitors  were 
not  frequent.  The  regular  call  of  the  dashing  pony 
express  riders,  the  occasional  visit  of  a  cowboy  or 
frontiersman,  readily  gave  the  excuse  for  extrav- 
agant celebrations.  Amid  such  surroundings  read- 
ing soon  became  monotonous,  smoking  too  light  a 
pastime,  and  drinking  and  gambling  easily  became 
favorites  for  most  every  one  sooner  or  later.  The 
West  Point  boy  with  his  first  pair  of  shoulder- 
straps  gazed  astonished  at  the  sight  of  his  superior 
officers — playing  cards  with  bullets  for  chips,  and 
frequent  libations  of  wretched  liquor  called  '*  whis- 
key" poured  out  to  keep  up  his  excitement.  The 
evil  effects  of  such  a  life  were  everywhere  to  be 
found — in  cattle  ranch  and  reservation,  in  company 
quarters,  and  in  the  officers'  mess.  Men  whose 
home  training  taught  them  to  abhor  such  associa- 
tions became  drunkards  and  gamblers  in  short  or- 
der, and  with  the  increasing  dissipation  self-respect 
was  sadly  shattered  and  the  road  to  every  vice  was 
open. 

The  first  stages  of  settlement  in  the  great  west 
were  ever  of  this  class.  Drinking  and  gambling 
have  been  the  avant-couriers  of  our  American  prog- 
ress. Everywhere,  whether  north  or  south,  the  sa- 
loon is  the  first  establishment.  It  takes  a  long  time 
for  churches  and  schools  to  get  a  start;  a  shelter 
tent  or  a  prairie-schooner  can  be  made  use  of  for 
saloon  purposes  at  once. 

The  whiskey  is  the  foundation  for  the  mischief; 
every  undertaking  begins  with  its  employment; 
battle,  murder,  uprising,  all  are  encouraged  by  its 


206 


devilish  influence.  Manhood  is  degraded,  the  body- 
is  prematurely  aged,  the  mind  is  dazed,  stupefied, 
diseased,  and  acute  mania,  delirium  tremens,  if  not 
immediately  victors  in  the  struggle,  witness  the  giv- 
ing of  the  death-blow. 

On  the  other  hand  it  is  surprising  to  find  that 
many  men,  apparently  whiskey-soaked,  succeed  in 
reformation  more  or  less  permanent. 

It  does  not  require  any  extraordinary  experience 
to  bear  witness  to  the  battles  and  rows  at  frontier 
posts  ending  in  suicides  and  even  homicides.  One 
terrible  murder  directly  traceable  to  whiskey  came 
under  my  observation ;  and  I  have  known  more  than 
one  officer  who  has  manfully  struggled  to  evercome 
the  temptation  to  drink.  One  splendid  fellow  wrote 
me  a  letter  imploring  me  to  help  him  to  win  in  his 
battle  against  whiskey,  until  now  the  very  name  of 
the  poison  is  so  distasteful  to  me  and  brings  to 
mind  such  scenes  of  sadness  and  horror  that  I 
would  do  anything  to  prevent  its  use  everywhere, 
as  well  as  amongst  the  brave  soldiers  of  our  army, 
regular  or  volunteer.  It  is  the  associations,  it  is 
the  conditions  of  life  which  lead  men  into  tempta- 
tion and  drag  them  unwillingly  to  ruin.  It  has 
been  said  that:  ''Reason  cannot  show  itself  more 
reasonable  than  to  leave  off  reasoning  on  things 
above  reason."  There  are  those  who  dismiss  the 
subject  of  the  liquor  curse  as  one  unfathomable. 
These  men  are  not  enemies  of  temperance,  but  con- 
fess they  are  unable  to  form  an  opinion  as  to  the 
best  methods  for  overcoming  the  injurious  effects 
of  alcohol.  There  are  those,  carried  away  by  the 
greatness  of  the  subject,  who  become  overenthused 
and  are  condemned  as  ''cranks."     Call  no  man  a 


207 


crank  who  is  honestly  at  work  in  the  redemption 
of  mankind.  This  very  day  I  have  read  that  in- 
temperance is  certainly  diminishing  in  our  land, 
and  that  the  cheapness  of  heer  is  to  be  credited 
with  some  of  this  result!  Undoubtedly  the  Ger- 
mans who  drink  beer — but  very  different  in  quality 
from  that  which  is  provided  in  this  country — are 
spared  temptations  for  whiskey,  brandy,  etc.  That 
temperance  in  the  army  is  increasing,  and  that  less 
whiskey  and  more  mild  beer  is  called  for,  there  can 
be  no  doubt. 

The  old-time  sutler  has  disappeared.  He  was  ever 
on  the  alert  on  pay-days,  eagerly  scooping  in  the 
soldier's  pay  for  the  wretched  supplies  he  had 
afforded  him. 

The  government  after  a  while  recognized  that 
the  whiskey  dealer  was  a  curse  to  the  army,  and 
war  was  declared  upon  him,  resulting  in  a  series  of 
battles  lasting  for  years.  Inch  by  inch  he  has  been 
driven  backward,  until  to-day  his  power  is  limited, 
and  his  glory  well-nigh  departed.  The  soldier  is 
able  to  look  his  old  enemy  in  the  face  and  to  with- 
stand temptation  more  readily,  and  to  rejoice  in 
the  manhood  of  victory  over  the  allurements  to 
drink.  With  drunkenness  unpopular  the  physical 
well-being  of  the  soldier  can  be  maintained,  and  his 
respectability  cultivated.  Drink  catered  to  all  that 
was  low  and  vile,  and  looked  with  jealous,  hateful 
eye  at  all  tnie  manliness  and  self-respect.  It  has 
ceased  to  be  respectable  or  soldierly  to  be  found 
half  tipsy.  There  are  some  of  the  old-timers  in 
our  army  who  still  cling  to  the  bottle.  They  were 
made  of  such  manly,  courageous  stuff  that  even 
whiskey  could  not  kill  them,  but  that  it  has  pre- 

208 


maturely  aged  some  of  them  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
The  bravest  men  I  have  met,  either  in  the  army  or 
navy,  were  not  those  who  swore  the  loudest  or  who 
boasted  that  they  could  drink  as  much  as  the  next, 
although  I  must  confess  I  still  know  of  men  who 
drink  and  gamble  and  are  undoubtedly  good,  true 
men  and  valuable  officers  notwithstanding!  Their 
strong  personalities  could  stand  the  damage  which 
would  be  fatal  to  many.  They  do  not  realize  that 
their  very  manhood  gives  encouragement  to  others 
to  drink  who  are  not  as  able  as  they  to  overcome 
the  poison,  and  react  against  the  damaging  influ- 
ences. Misguided  methods  of  men  preaching  tem- 
perence,  but  lacking  in  manhood  and  good  sense, 
have  disgusted  men  of  mettle  and  courage,  and  a 
cause  for  the  betterment  of  mankind  has  suffered 
through  such  unworthy  apostles.  Army  men  are 
by  habit  called  upon  to  depend  more  or  less  on 
alcohol  in  some  form,  and  in  choosing  between  two 
evils  the  lesser  is  certainly  to  be  recommended. 
War  is  not  a  Sunday-school  picnic,  and  in  the  stress 
of  battle  stimulants  are  depended  upon  by  many. 
Sensible  and  worthy  teachers  must  demonstrate  by 
precept  and  example  that  liquor  must  be  used  spar- 
ingly, if  at  all.  Excess  is  the  cemetery  of  all  en- 
joyment. On  the  other  hand,  who  would  have  with- 
held a  flask  of  pure  brandy  to  the  weary  and  ex- 
hausted soldiers  in  the  trenches  before  Santiago? 
Hard  and  fast  rules  are  easy  to  write,  but  difficult 
to  enforce,  and  total  abstinence  for  an  army  is  and 
ever  has  been  and  always  will  be  an  utter  impos- 
sibility. The  responsibilities  of  the  commanding 
officer  are  very  great,  whether  in  a  lonely  station 
or  in  a  city  barracks,  or  in  the  active  field  of  war. 

209 


To  guard  a  soldier  from  those  who  would  do  him 
harm,  and  from  his  own  desires  and  appetites  which 
might  impair  body  and  mind,  requires  great  wisdom 
and  prudence.  The  commander-in-chief  of  the  Uni- 
ted States  army  should  have  larger  influence,  and 
less  chance  for  discouragement  by  meddling  out- 
siders. Gen.  Miles  is  not  only  a  brave  and  compe- 
tent officer,  but  is  a  gentleman  honestly  interested 
in  the  real  welfare  of  all  his  army,  officers  and  en- 
listed men  as  well.  The  remedy  is  in  substituting 
something  which  is  harmless  for  that  which  is  harm- 
ful. 

Instead  of  the  drinking  saloon,  the  properly  or- 
ganized canteen ;  instead  of  gambling,  entertain- 
ments which  amuse  and  interest;  instead  of  whiskey, 
beer  or  coffee  or  cocoa,  in  a  pleasant,  orderly  room. 
Do  not  force  the  soldier  to  take  Christian  teaching 
as  a  dose;  lead  him  if  you  will,  but  do  not  attempt 
to  drag.  Do  not  after  Santiago's  campaign  ever 
ask  an  American  soldier  to  give  up  his  pipe  and 
tobacco.  Those  of  us  who  have  served  on  the  plains 
will  testify  that  we  can  go  without  food,  and  even 
warmth  and  shelter,  but  we  must  have  our  tobacco; 
and  whoever  classes  smoking  with  drinking  can 
hope  for  few  converts  among  veteran  soldiers. 

It  has  been  said  that  smoking  easily  leads  to  other 
vices,  but  in  my  experience  I  have  found  that  it 
leads  away  from  vice.  While  whiskey  excites  and 
is  apt  to  bring  out  the  evil  in  men's  minds  and  con- 
duct, and  may  encourage  careless  speech,  the  pipe 
is  soothing,  quieting,  comforting  and  companionable. 
The  heart  weighed  down  with  loneliness  and  hope- 
lessness turns  gladly  to  the  pipe  and  gets  refresh- 
ment, which  the  drinker  can  never  find  in  spirituous 


210 


liquors.  The  Italian,  the  Frenchman  and  the  Ger- 
man drink  their  light  winea  or  beer,  sitting  down 
at  table,  and  taking  food  at  the  same  time.  It  is 
used  in  moderation  and  as  a  food  for  man,  woman, 
and  child.  The  American  gets  his  liquor  in  a  place 
which  is  the  resort  of  the  drunkard  and  the  tough. 
He  makes  no  long  tarrying,  but  gulping  down  his 
dose  sometimes  repeats  it  until  he  fancies  he  can 
endure  no  more,  and  then,  half-reeling,  issues  forth 
to  a  fate  which  may  in  a  moment  forever  cloud  his 
usefulness  or  his  happiness,  or  both. 


ail 


"SHONG— SASHA." 


The  Indians  Smoking  Tobacco. 


No  matter  what  adversity  of  chase  or  war  might 
overtake  the  Indian,  he  sought  refuge,  cheer  and 
hope  in  the  cloud  of  promise  of  his  smoking.  The 
use  of  the  pipe  was  for  the  Indian  something  more 
than  a  mere  pleasure;  it  had  its  hygienic  value  as 
well.  No  doubt  smoking  originated  with  the  In- 
dian instinctively  and  was  to  hiin  as  a  protecting 
disinfectant  against  the  germs  of  contagious  diseases. 
It  helped  to  preserve  his  superb  teeth  and  to  disin- 
fect his  breath.  It  soothed  the  pain  of  wounds  and 
made  him  oblivious  to  the  knawing  of  hunger.  It 
helped  him  to  control  his  emotions  and  gave  him 
the  ability  for  silence  and  thoughtfulness. 

Wrapped  in  his  blanket  at  councils  of  peace  or 
war,  he  smoked  slowly  and  weighed  carefully  ques- 
tions of  vital  importance  for  the  tribe  or  nation. 
Great  was  the  tempest  of  his  fury  if  the  war  path 
were  decided  upon,  when  with  a  bound  he  cast  aside 
his  blanket,  dashed  the  pipe  upon  the  ground  and 
wielded  the  tomahawk,  totem  of  war  and  of  blood- 
shed. 

In  the  story  which  Balch  has  written  so  well  of 
Indian  life  in  the  **  Bridge  of  the  Gods"  he  de- 
scribes a  council  in  which  the  peace  pipe  plays  an 
important    part.     This    scene    is    supposed    to    rep- 


212 


resent  Indian  life  two  centuries  ago,  but  it  is  equally 
true  of  the  ceremonies  of  to-day  just  as  we  would 
find  it  among"  Sioux  or  Ojibway,  Apaches  or  Chey- 
enne. 

The  Indians  are  assembled  upon  a  grassy  plain 
and  ready  for  the  council,  when  the  head  chief, 
Multnomah,  orders:  "Let  the  peace  pipe  be  lighted." 
Tohomish,  the  most  renowned  medicine  man  present, 
comes  forward  and  lights  the  decorated  pipe,  mut- 
tering some  mystical  incantation.  He  waves  it  to 
"the  east  and  the  west,  to  the  north  and  the  south, 
and  when  the  charm  seems  complete,  hands  it  with 
ceremony  to  the  emperor  chief,  Multnomah." 

From  chief  to  cliief  it  circles  around  the  whole 
council,  till,  like  a  benediction,  Multnomah  declares, 
"The  pipe  is  smoked — Are  not  our  hearts  as  one?" 

Parkman  in  his  interesting  story  of  "The  Oregon 
Trail"  (p.  302)  states  that  "the  Indian  has  with 
him  always  when  possible  his  stone  pipe  and  a  bag 
of  "  Shong-sasha. " 

Longfellow,  in  his  famous  poem  of  Hiawatha,  has 
related  the  story  of  the  peace  pipe  and  the  "red 
pipe  stone  quarry  of  the  Dakotas." 

The  pipe  of  red  stone  is  the  most  delicious  means 
of  burning  "Shong-sasha"  it  has  ever  been  my 
privilege  to  use.  No  Turkish  pipe  or  German  meer- 
schaum, American  corncob  or  French  briar  can 
equal  the  cool,  sweet  smoke  through  the  red  sand 
stone  pipe  filled  with  fragrant  "Shong-sasha" — 
a  smoking  tobacco  mixed  with  yellow  bark  which 
makes  the  Indian  mixture  mild  and  harmless. 

"In  every  tribe  in  whose  country  I  have  been 
stationed  (which  comprises  nearly  all  the  continent) 
the  pipe  is  the  Indian's  constant  companion  through 


213 


life."*  It  is  his  messenger  of  peace,  he  pledges  his 
friends  through  its  stem  and  its  bowl,  and  when 
death  lays  him  low,  it  has  a  place  of  honor  in  his 
solitary  grave — with  his  weapons  of  war. 

All  Indian  nations  hold  the  pipe  of  peace  as  sac- 
red. It  is  kept  like  the  regimental  flags  of  pale 
face  warriors  at  "head  quarters" — and  is  used  upon 
only  the  most  solemn  ceremonies  of  "burying  the 
hatchet. ' ' 

The  stem  is  ornamented  with  eagle  quills  and 
beautiful  bead  work  and  its  general  appearance  de- 
notes that  it  is  no  ordinary  smoking  implement. 

Seated  in  a  circle  the  venerable  and  influential 
chiefs  draw  the  smoke  once  through  the  stem  and 
pass  it  on  to  the  right.  The  bowl  is  of  ordinary 
stone  or  of  the  famous  red  pipe  stone  of  the  Dakotas. 
Sioux  is  the  common  name  of  the  Dakotas,  but  is 
merely  a  corruption  of  the  0  jib  way  words,  Na-do- 
wessioux-enemies. 

Hundreds  of  moons  (long  time  ago)  the  abor- 
igines journeyed  to  the  pipe  stone  quarry  to  obtain 
masses  of  the  wonderful  stone,  which  they  trans- 
ported to  their  distant  lodges,  fashioned  into  curious 
shapes  and  traded  for  horses  and  arms  and  clothing. 

Wherever  there  are  Indians  the  red  pipe  is  smoked, 
from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific,  from  Canada  to 
Mexico. 

This  quarry  is  "located  on  the  summit  of  the 
'divide'  between  the  Missouri  and  St.  Peter's  Rivers 
in  Minnesota,  at  a  point  not  far  from  where  the  97th 
meridian  of  longitude  intersects  the  45th  parallel 
of  latitude." — Col.  Inman. 

*"  From  The  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail."— Col.  Inman. 

214 


The  luxury  of  smoking  appears  to  have  been 
known  to  all  the  tribes.  Half  of  this  leisure  time 
is  given  by  the  Indians  to  smoking  his  k-nick  ka- 
nick  or  Shong-Sasha,  mixture  of  tobacco  and  willow 
bark.  This  is  a  granulated  mixture  and  it  is  the 
most  wholesome  method  of  smoking  and  least  likely 
to  be  followed  by  injury  to  the  general  health. 
Such  a  mild  tobacco  burned  in  the  cool  red  pipe  is 
almost  never  injurious.  The  Indian  never  smokes 
strong  tobacco  if  he  can  help  it  and  never  disgraces 
himself  by  the  filthy  habit  of  chewing — otherwise 
he  could  never  have  obtained  the  reputation  he  en- 
joys, as  the  strongest,  manliest  of  the  aborigines. 

Here's  to  thee,  faithful  friend,  my  comforting 
pipe  and  cheering  Shong-sasha,  I  like  thy  sweet  com- 
panionship ! 


315 


THE    EVOLUTION    OF  THE 
COLORED  SOLDIER. 


When  colored  troops  were  enrolled,  soon  after  the 
close  of  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  the  Southern 
States  were  in  a  chaotic  condition.  Troops  occupied 
the  strategic  centres,  and  "carpet  bag"  politicians 
and  adventurers  swarmed  into  the  conquered  ter- 
ritory, their  thirst  for  money  making  them  willing 
to  risk  somewhat  of  safety  in  order  to  arrive  early 
upon  the  field  to  reap  the  harvest  that  cruel  war 
had  placed  within  their  reach.  The  negroes,  freed 
from  slavery  and  intoxicated  with  the  license  which 
they  knew  not  how  to  use  reasonably,  were  ready 
for  almost  anything  except  wage  labor. 

The  war  being  at  an  end,  the  profession  of  arms, 
with  the  showy  uniform  and  military  pomp,  offered 
them  a  tempting  experience.  To  recruit  a  colored 
regiment  was  therefore  not  a  very  difficult  under- 
taking, especially  so  when  ignorance  and  savagery 
were  no  bar  to  acceptance  by  the  recruiting  officers. 
Hundred  of  freed  negroes  flocked  to  the  recruiting 
stations  and  were  quickly  transformed  into  recruits 
for  the  United  States  colored  regiments.  The  fiat 
had  gone  forth  that  the  freed  men  were  no  longer 
to  be  merely  enrolled  as  soldiers  to  do  duty  as  team- 
sters for  the  quartermaster's  department,  but  that 
they  were  to  appear  as  soldiers,  drill,  and  do  guard 

216 


duty,  with  equal  rights  with  the  white  veterans  of 
the  late  war.  In  compliance  with  this  idea,  an  ex- 
pedition assembled  and  marched  westward  from 
Fort  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  in  the  early  spring  of 
1867,  over  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  through  the  "great 
deserts,"  which  were  then  occupied  by  the  active 
and  warlike  Indians.  Their  advent  astonished 
everyone.  The  frontiersmen  looked  upon  them  as 
a  military  caricature,  the  fruit  of  some  political 
deal,  unexplained  and  unreasonable.  The  officers 
detailed  to  serve  with  them  were  half  ashamed  to 
have  it  known.  The  white  soldiers  who  came  in 
contact  with  these  recent  slaves,  now  wearing  the 
uniform  of  the  regular  army,  felt  insulted  and  in- 
jured; and  their  redskin  adversaries  heaped  deri- 
sion upon  the  negroes  by  taunts  and  jests,  and 
loudly  called  them  "Buffalo  Soldiers,"  and  declared 
they  were  "heap  bad  medicine"  because  they  could 
not  and  would  not  scalp  them. 

Such  was  the  very  unpromising  advent  of  colored 
troops  to  do  service  as  soldiers  on  equal  terms  with 
regular  veterans.  A  detachment  of  this  regiment 
was  ordered  on  duty  at  Fort  Craig,  New  Mexico, 
and  shortly  after  their  relief  from  quartermaster's 
duty  they  were,  to  the  astonishment  and  disgust  of 
the  white  troops,  detailed  for  guard  duty.  This 
was  more  than  the  white  soldiers  could  endure,  and 
so  general  and  open  was  the  opposition  that  a  con- 
dition of  things  bordering  on  mutiny  resulted. 
Great  anxiety  existed  among  the  officers  as  to  the 
outcome,  and  the  gravest  fears  were  entertained. 

The  threats  of  vengeance  against  the  "nigger  sol- 
diers" were  so  openly  made  in  the  hearing  of  of- 
ficers that  bloodshed  was  seriously  anticipated,  and 


217 


earnest  consultations  concerning  postponing  the  col- 
ored guard  detail  were  held.  It  was  finally  decided, 
however,  that  the  colored  new  guard  should  march 
on  at  all  hazards,  and  when  guard  mount  sounded 
the  entire  garrison  was  in  a  state  of  anxiety  never 
before  experienced.  The  old  guard  was  assembled 
and  instructed  and  warned,  the  men  listening  in 
sullen  silence.  Never  before  had  it  been  necessary 
for  their  officers  to  appeal  to  them.  They  had 
serv^ed  long  and  well  together;  and  respect  and  con- 
fidence were  genuinely  entertained  for  each  other 
to  a  degree  almost  unknown  among  the  troops  east 
of  the  ^Mississippi.  These  veteran  Indian  fighters 
would  follow  their  officers  cheerfully  and  persis- 
tently through  any  danger  or  hardship,  but  when 
it  came  to  being  "obliged  to  salute  a  nigger  in  uni- 
form" their  proud  soldierly  spirits  rebelled  at  the 
thought,  and  they  muttered  openly  their  intense 
aversion  to  this  innovation.  The  music  of  guard 
mount  soimded  shrill  and  forbidding;  the  guards 
fell  in  with  a  sullen  determination  on  their  faces 
as  if  they  were  about  to  take  part  in  a  critical  event 
in  their  military^  career.  The  new  guard  marched 
on  in  a  shuffling,  shamefaced  way,  as  if  they  too 
wished  it  were  over.  As  they  came  near  the  old 
guard,  everj^one  watched  to  see  what  would  happen. 

Lieutenant    ,    whose    commands    had    always 

been  obeyed  in  the  past  with  cheerful  military 
promptness,  took  a  hasty  look  at  the  set  faces  of 
his  men  as  the  black  detail  approached.  The  time 
had  come. 

' '  Present  arms ! "  he  ordered,  as  the  guard  reached 
the  saluting  point,  but  not  a  veteran  moved  a  mus- 
cle, and  the  black  detail  passed  without  any  other 


218 


recognition  than  the  soldierly  salute  of  the  officer's 
swords.  A  consultation  was  held,  and  the  white 
soldiers  were  warned  that  their  conduct  would  be 
regarded  as  mutinous  if  they  continued  to  disobey 
orders. 

Again  the  black  detail  marched  past,  and  again 
the  order  was  disobeyed;  not  a  rifle  stirred  from 
the  shoulder.  The  commanding  officer  now  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene  and  delivered  to  his  veteran 
soldiers  a  sharp  and  stinging  rebuke.  His  decided 
and  harsh  tones  concealed  the  sympathy  he  felt  in 
his  heart.  He  had  his  duty  to  discharge,  and  he 
informed  the  men  whom  he  had  led  in  battle,  and 
who  had  never  failed  him,  that  if  they  refused  to 
salute  the  new  guard,  they  would  be  relieved  and 
taken  to  the  post  flagstaff,  and  tied  up  by  their 
thumbs  until  they  consented  to  give  the  required 
salute. 

This  was  the  climax.  The  Tsvhole  garrison  was  in 
a  fever  heat  of  excitement.  Would  these  brave  fel- 
lows yield?  Would  men  who  had  records  such  as 
theirs  in  the  Indian  War,  and  who  had  never  quailed 
in  danger,  give  way  at  the  threat  of  cruel  physical 
torture  ? 

Once  more  the  blacks  were  moving  rapidly  to  the 
saluting  line.  For  the  third  time,  the  rifles  of  the 
old  guard  were  at  the  shoulders. 

''Present  arms!"  rang  out  clear  and  distinct,  but 
not  a  rifle  moved.  That  settled  it.  The  men  were 
dismissed,  and  as  prisoners  marched  to  the  flag- 
staff'. Around  their  thumbs  the  cruel  cords  were 
tied,  and  they  were  hoisted  upward  until  only  the 
toes  touched  the  ground.  There  was  no  word  of 
protest,  no  look  of  anger.     Proudly  and  firmly,  as  if 

219 


in  Indian  torture,  they  endured  the  ignominy  and 
pain  of  their  position.  Their  officers  were  with 
them,  beseeching  them  to  yield.  The  pain  became 
more  and  more  insufferable;  they  almost  fainted. 
One  of  the  officers  suggested  to  the  men  that  they 
could  pretend  to  yield,  agreeing  to  "salute  the  uni- 
form of  the  United  States,  even  if  borne  by  a  nig- 
ger."  This  gave  a  chance  for  compromise,  the 
cruel  cords  were  severed,  and  the  brave  veterans 
were  released.  They  were  too  lame  and  injured  to 
hold  a  rifle  then,  but  it  was  agreed  that  thereafter 
military  courtesy  should  be  shown  to  those  wearing 
the  uniform. 

This  incident  at  Fort  Craig  illustrates  the  discord 
which  then  existed  between  the  white  and  the  colored 
troops  of  the  regular  army. 

South  of  Fort  Craig,  beyond  the  river,  stretched 
the  lonely  desert  known  as  the  Jornada  del  Muerto, 
or  Journey  of  Death.  Ninety-nine  miles,  without 
wood,  water,  or  grass,  leads  the  straight  road  to 
Fort  Selden.  Here  another  detachment  of  the  37th 
was  stationed.  Continuing  the  march,  the  remain- 
ing detachments  pushed  on  through  sixty-five  miles 
of  desert  to  Fort  Cummings,  N.  M.,  where  they  re- 
lieved the  garrison,  consisting  of  two  companies  of 
the  125th  U.  S.  Colored  Volunteer  Infantry.  Here, 
isolated  in  the  desert,  stood  a  fortress  built  of  adobe. 
It  was  designed  by  General  McClellan,  and  was  con- 
structed with  strong  walls  completely  surrounding 
the  garrison  buildings,  a  feature  quite  uncommon 
among  the  so-called  Western  forts.  Generally 
speaking,  the  forts  of  the  frontier  are  merely  col- 
lections of  buildings  about  an  oblong  space,  which 
serves  as  parade  gTOund. 


2H0 


To  the  north  of  Fort  Cummings,  Cook's  Peak 
rose  in  its  majestic  grandenr,  and,  beyond,  the 
canon  extended  away  for  milas.  Through  tliis  a 
road  led  in  the  direction  of  the  Rio  Miembres, 
twenty  miles  away.  But  to  the  west  and  south- 
west stretched  the  limitless  prairie,  dreary  and 
desolated.  The  only  green  things  visible  in  the 
landscape  were  the  few  stunted  trees  at  the  spring, 
half  way  between  the  Fort  and  the  entrance  to 
Cook's  Canon.  After  marching  for  days  and  weeks 
through  an  enemy's  country,  with  the  rough  mess- 
kit  of  a  campaigner,  with  the  horror  of  a  visita- 
tion of  cholera,  to  which  their  brave  surgeon  and 
his  wife  fell  victims,  these  ignorant  colored  sol- 
diers, who  had  been  buoyed  with  delusive  hopes  on 
leaving  the  fertile  lands  of  Georgia,  found  them- 
selves in  this  dreary,  prison-like  abode,  exposed  to 
all  the  discomforts  of  a  home  in  the  desert,  and  to 
all  the  dangers  of  a  powerful  tribe  of  merciless 
Apaches,  forever  on  the  warpath.  It  was  enough 
to  sadden  the  hearts  of  the  best  white  troops,  and 
it  is  no  wonder  that  dissatisfaction  rapidly  spread, 
until  in  their  undisciplined  state  a  mutinous  spirit 
developed. 

The  veteran  volunteers,  with  their  gallant  officers, 
had  marched  away;  and,  with  the  exception  of  their 
own  officers  and  a  squad  of  the  3d  U.  S.  regular 
cavalry,  there  were  no  white  men  to  give  their  in- 
fluence towards  preserving  order. 

In  the  early  days  of  colored  troops  in  the  regular 
army,  it  was  essential,  to  get  the  best  results,  that 
they  should  serve  with  white  troops,  so  that  dis- 
cipline could  be  enforced  when  necessary.  It  was 
a  decidedly  rislry    experiment    to    attempt    making 

221 


soldiers  of  such  people.  They  needed  the  object 
lesson  of  contact  with  white  troops.  Naturally  of 
an  imitative  disposition,  the  colored  man  took  the 
white  soldier  as  his  pattern,  carefully  watching 
every  gesture  and  movement  with  inquisitive  con- 
cern. Recruited  from  the  most  dangerous  and  shift- 
less of  the  freed  negroes,  they  were  naturally  lazy, 
and  disinclined  to  do  the  work  required  of  them. 
They  spent  all  of  their  leisure  time  in  gambling, 
drinking  and  quarelling.  Every  possible  punish- 
ment employed  in  the  discipline  of  frontier  posts 
was  inflicted  upon  them.  They  were  stood  on  bar- 
rels, they  were  "bucked"  and  gagged,  they  were 
marched  about  the  garrison  with  heavy  planks  tied 
to  their  backs,  bearing  the  word  "gambler"  in 
chalk.  Everything  was  done  to  discipline  them, 
every  means  taken  to  make  soldiers  of  them.  But 
so  rapidly  did  the  mutinous  spirit  develop  in  the 
command,  that  only  by  the  merest  chance  was  a 
tragedy  averted. 

Through  the  confession  of  a  servant  it  was  dis- 
covered that  these  colored  men  had  entered  into  a 
plot  to  kill  every  wliite  man  in  the  garrison,  to 
capture  the  horses  and  such  property  as  they  might 
desire,  and  to  carrj^  off  the  officers'  wives  as  their 
slaves.  The  details  were  so  completed  that  every 
match  was  to  be  dampened  to  that  no  light  could 
be  made,  and  the  caps  were  to  be  removed  from  every 
revolver. 

With  remarkable  coolness  the  officers  prepared  to 
face  the  terrible  situation.  A  rumor  was  purposely 
circulated  that  the  paymaster  had  arrived.  The 
colored  soldiers  w^ere  ordered  to  be  mustered  on  the 
parade  without  arms.     It  had  been  previously   ar- 

322 


ranged  that  the  squad  of  white  cavalry  were  to 
secretly  occupy  the  quarters  of  the  colored  men 
and  to  prevent  at  all  hazards  their  returning  to 
secure  their  rifles.  The  cannon  had  been  loaded  to 
the  muzzle  with  grape  and  canister,  and  two  of  the 
ofificers  detailed  to  turn  them  upon  the  mutineers 
should  occasion  require.  The  commanding  officer, 
with  the  officers  and  white  non-commissioned  officers 
of  the  garrison,  appeared  before  the  command,  and 
announced  to  them  that  their  plot  had  been  fully  dis- 
covered ;  and  he  demanded,  then  and  there,  the 
surrender  of  the  ringleaders.  Immediately  the 
companies  broke  ranks  and  started  for  their  quar- 
ters, where  they  expected  to  find  their  rifles.  They 
discovered,  however,  that  the  doors  were  closed,  and 
at  the  windows  stood  the  squad  of  white  cavalry- 
men with  their  carbines  levelled  at  them.  Turning 
again,  they  saw  that  the  officers  had  drawn  their 
revolvers,  and  that  the  cannon  pointed  threaten- 
ingly in  their  direction.  In  terror  many  fell  upon 
their  knees  and  begged  for  mercy,  others  protested 
their  innocence  and  pointed  out  the  ringleaders, 
who  were  quickly  secured  with  the  assistance  of 
the  guard,  which  had  been  carefully  selected  from 
the  men  who  could  be  depended  upon,  and  the  mu- 
tineers were  confined,  and  in  a  short  time  the  dis- 
turbance was  thoroughly  quelled. 

Such  is  a  brief  chapter  in  the  history  of  colored 
soldiery  in  the  regular  army  in  1867.  From  such 
discouraging  beginnings  has  developed  a  military  or- 
ganization of  brave  and  efficient  soldiers,  who  have 
since  then  made  excellent  records  for  themselves  in 
many  deeds  of  gallantry  in  battles  with  the  Indians. 
No  longer  do  the  red  men  throw  taunts  at  the  black 


323 


soldiers,  for  they  have  found  them  foemen  worthy 
of  their  steel.  No  longer  do  oificers  consider  it 
humilating  to  serve  in  negro  regiments.  On  the 
contrary,  they  are  favorite  commands  to-day.  The 
24th  and  25th  Infantry,  and  the  9th  and  10th 
Cavalry  are  a  credit  to  the  U.  S.  Army.  Post 
schools  and  devoted  and  intelligent  officers  have  de- 
veloped the  colored  recruit  until  he  has  become  a 
trustworthy,  brave,  and  intelligent  soldier. 

"They  love  their  uniform  and  take  great  pride 
in  it — great  pride  in  their  bearing.  They  love  to 
have  everything  in  first-class  shape — chest  out,  and 
every  button  shining,  and  every  strap  correct,  and 
they'll  follow  you  everywhere  you  take  them.  You 
know  they  are  always  right  behind  you,  they  don't 
care  what  the  danger  is,  so  long  as  they  have  a  white 
man  for  their  leader,  and  they  won't  follow  one  of 
their  o\^ti  color  across  the  street  to  pick  apples — you 
can't  make  them."  This  is  what  an  experienced 
army  officer  says  of  them  in  a  recent  number  of 
"The  Outlook."  The  fierce  battles  in  Cuba,  in 
which  they  gained  fresh  laurels,  have  not  dis- 
heartened them.  It  is  the  same  ,old  story;  they 
have  won  again  the  respect  of  friend  and  foe.  "The 
colored  troops  fight  bravely." 

W.  T.  P.,  in  North  American  Review. 


224 


COOK'S  CANON.     A  STORY  OF 
LIFE  IN  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


It  was  at  the  famous  Casino  at  Newport;  the 
music  and  dancing  had  ceased  for  a  moment,  and 
I  gazed  about  at  the  onlookers,  among  whom  were 
many  people  of  distinction.  Nearby  sat  a  lovely 
young  woman  apparently  blessed  with  health  and 
happiness,  and  yet  there  was  something  about  the 
face  so  very  thoughtful,  it  seemed  as  if  the  memory 
of  some  fierce  storm  of  the  past  still  persisted  in 
lingering.  I  further  noticed  that,  although  dressed 
in  becoming  good  taste  and  wearing  no  jewelry, 
yet  upon  her  shapely  right  arm  there  was  a  band 
of  virgin  gold.  I  was  about  to  call  my  companion's 
attention  to  this  unusual  adornment,  when  he  spoke 
of  it  himself,  and  inquired  if  I  had  ever  met  Sur- 
geon Bradstreet  of  the  Army  and  his  charming 
wife!  I  had  not,  so  very  shortly  an  introduction 
followed,  and  later  on  when  I  learned  to  know  them 
better,  the  Surgeon  related  some  of  his  adventures 
among  the  Apaches  of  the  Southwest  and  the  story 
of  the  Band  of  Gold.  "It  was  back  in  the  sixties," 
he  said,  "when  I  was  stationed  at  old  Fort  Cum- 
mings.  New  Mexico.  One  morning,  just  after  guard 
mounting,  the  adjutant  came  to  the  hospital  to  give 
me  verbal  orders." 


235 


"The  commanding  officer's  compliments  and  you 
are  directed  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  Rio  Miembres 
to  attend  to  some  wounded  civilians.  Suitable  es- 
cort will  be  ready  at  ten  o  'clock. ' '  I  lost  no  time  in 
making  my  preparations,  directing  the  necessary  in- 
struments, bandages,  etc.,  to  be  placed  in  the  pan- 
niers for  the  pack  mules,  and  looking  well  to  my 
pistol  holders  and  ammunition  case,  I  hastened  to 
headquarters  to  report  for  duty.  A  half  dozen 
troopers  of  the  gallant  3rd  were  already  in  saddle, 
and  with  some  parting  instructions  from  my  com- 
mander, I  mounted  and  rode  out  with  them.  The 
view,  as  we  passed  out  of  the  old  Fort  archway  and 
entered  on  the  broad  trail,  was  indeed  grand.  As 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  great  sweep  of  prairie, 
but  to  the  northwestward  the  great  mountains,  and 
not  a  mile  away  the  huge  silent  figure  of  Cook's 
Peak — "Old  Baldy" — as  we  familiarly  called  it, 
from  its  snow-capped  summit.  Just  beyond  loomed 
the  dark  entrance  to  Cook's  Canon,  a  gruesome  and 
dangerous  valley,  the  resort  of  murderous  Apaches, 
and  a  place  which  a  stronger  party  than  our  own 
might  shrink  from  exploring. 

We  galloped  into  the  Canon,  with  the  caution  of 
men  not  unused  to  Indian  ambuscade,  and  scanned 
carefully  right  and  left  each  possible  hiding  place 
for  a  treacherous  foe,  as  we  rode  down  the  trail. 

The  Indians  were  always  active,  and  that  very 
morning  Charlie  Young,  the  brave  rider  of  the  pony 
express,  who  came  into  the  post  ranch  before 
reveille,  had  seen  some  of  them  at  various  places 
along  the  trail.  We  rode  at  ease  and  lit  our  pipes, 
saving  our  horses,  but  expecting  to  eat  our  dinners 
at   the   Miembres,    more    than    twenty  miles  away, 


326 


sometime  before  sunset.  Suddenly  we  heard  the 
sound  of  rifle  shots,  and  as  we  rounded  a  bend,  we 
saw  below  us  farther  on  the  trail,  a  large  ambu- 
lance— a  mule  lay  dead  in  the  harness,  but  the 
rest  of  the  team  had  disappeared,  and  from  the  am- 
bulance puffs  of  white  smoke  and  the  clear  rifle 
cracks  told  us  of  a  stubborn  defence  against  the 
cut-throat  Apaches,  who,  with  yells,  were  repeatedly 
charging.  Our  carbines  were  unslung  in  a  jiffy, 
and  with  a  cheer  we  struck  spurs  and  rushed  down 
the  trail  to  the  rescue,  just  in  time  to  send  scattering 
a  half  dozen  "bucks"  who  were  standing  on  the 
wheels  and  steps,  slashing  with  their  knives.  As 
we  rode  up  three  men  leaped  out  and  added  their 
shots  to  the  volley  we  sent  after  the  retreating  In- 
dians. I  was  informed  that  they  were  in  desperate 
trouble.  One  man  lay  dead  within  the  ambulance, 
and  two  women  were  wounded,  one,  at  least,  dan- 
gerously. Down  the  trail  was  the  multilated  driver — 
killed  at  the  first  volley.  Pushing  aside  the  slashed 
curtains,  pierced  with  arrow  and  bullet  holes,  I  saw 
at  once  the  full  horror  of  the  battle.  On  the  floor 
was  the  body  of  a  gentleman,  an  ugly  wound  in  the 
temple,  mutely  revealing  the  cause  of  death.  Minis- 
tering to  the  needs  of  a  middle-aged  woman,  evi- 
dently beyond  help,  was  a  fair  young  girl.  Her 
golden  hair  had  fallen  about  her  shoulders,  her 
clothing  was  torn  and  blood-stained,  and  her  right 
arm  was  bleeding  from  an  ugly  wound.  She  was 
rejoiced  to  learn  that  I  was  a  surgeon,  and  inquired 
anxiously  for  the  chances  of  saving  her  aunt,  now 
unconscious  and  dying.  I  cared  for  her  wound 
and  did  what  I  could  to  make  the  situation  less  hor- 
rible, and  sent  a  trooper  in  hot  haste  to  the  Fort  for 


237 


assistance  and  fresh  stock,  and  before  long  saw  them 
started  safely  for  the  garrison.  My  own  duties 
forced  me  to  proceed  westward  to  the  Miembres,  and 
it  was  late  the  next  day  before  I  reported  my  return 
at  headquarters.  My  fair  young  patient  was  as 
comfortable  as  possible  under  the  care  of  the  kind- 
hearted  wife  of  my  commander — but  the  bodies  of 
the  uncle  and  aunt  and  of  the  faithful  driver 
awaited  burial. 

I  learned  that  the  party  had  started  overland 
from  Southern  California,  by  way  of  Arizona,  bound 
to  Santa  Fe,  where  the  uncle  had  interests.  Un- 
fortunately, at  Fort  Bowie,  in  Arizona,  they  had 
been  obliged  to  give  up  their  military  escort,  and 
with  only  three  men  and  the  driver  to  accompany 
them,  they  risked  the  lonely  trail  through  Bayard 
and  the  Canon.  The  Indians  had  surprised  them, 
although  they  had  been  watching  their  signal  smoke 
for  sometime.  The  uncle  and  driver  fell  at  the 
first  volley,  and  the  savages  seized  and  cut  loose  the 
mules.  Just  as  our  shots  were  poured  into  the  red- 
skins, some  of  the  Apaches  had  made  a  rush,  and 
slashing  open  the  curtains  of  the  ambulance,  had 
seized  the  young  lady,  and  were  fighting  to  drag 
her  out,  one  of  the  redskins  giving  her  the  ugly 
wound  in  the  arm,  just  as  we  galloped  up.  In  spite 
of  my  best  efforts,  I  found  the  wound  an  ugly  one 
to  heal,  and  a  deep  scar  a  few  inches  above  the 
wrist  will  always  recall  the  horrors  of  that  adven- 
ture. 

My  pleasure  and  my  duty  called  me  often  to  the 
cheerful  quarters  of  my  commander,  and  after 
awhile  my  professional  services  changed  to  that  of 
a    new    relationship,    and    so    it    came    about    later 

228 


on,  when  leave  of  absence  found  me  in  old  Santa 
Fe,  whither  my  fair  young  friend  had  gone,  I 
brought  into  service  the  skill  of  a  worker  in  gold, 
for  which  that  old  Mexican  city  is  celebrated.  He 
fashioned  for  me  a  band  of  pure  virgin  gold  to  hide 
the  ugly  wound,  and  in  f  ac-simile,  a  ring,  which  later 
on  I  placed  upon  her  finger  in  the  little  chapel  of 
Santa  Fe.  It  does  not  seem  so  long  ago,  but  since 
that  battle  in  the  gloomy  canon,  many  happy  years 
have  passed. 

Old  Fort  Cummings  has  fallen  to  ruins,  its  mas- 
sive ''doby"  walls  have  crumbled,  and  Old  Glory 
no  longer  "catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first 
beam"  from  its  once  graceful  flagstaff.  Only  "Old 
Baldy"  still  wears  the  same  snow-white  crest,  and 
keeps  its  everlasting  vigil — as  the  "sentinel"  of 
Cook's  Canon  and  "of  the  Southwest." 


POSTSCRIPT. 


THE  TRAIL  OF  SANTA  FE  DE 
SAN   FRANCISCO. 


Known  as  the  "Santa  Fe  Trail." 


At  the,  commencement  of  the  '  *  commerce  of  the 
prairies"  in  the  early  portion  of  the  XIX  century 
the  Old  Santa  Fe  trail  was  the  arena  of  almost  con- 
stant sanguinary  struggles  between  the  Indians  and 
the  hardy  white  pioneers.  Their  daring  compelled 
its  development.  Their  hardships  gave  birth  to  the 
American  homestead;  their  determined  will  was  the 
factor  of  possible  achievements,  the  most  remarkable 
of  modern  times. 

When  the  famous  Santa  Fe  trail  was  established 
across  the  great  plains,  the  only  method  of  travel 
was  by  slow  freight  caravan  drawn  by  patient  oxen 
or  the  lumbering  stage  coach  with  its  complement 
of  four  or  six  mules.  There  was  ever  to  be  feared 
an  attack  by  those  devils  of  the  desert — the  Cheyen- 
nes,  Comanches,  Kiowas,  and  other  fierce  tribes. 
Along  the  whole  route  the  remains  of  men,  animals 
and  the  wrecks  of  camps  and  wagons,  told  a  story 
of  suffering,  robbery  and  outrage  more  impressive 
than  any  language. 


230 


Volumes  could  be — and  have  been — written  on 
the  history  and  romance  of  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail, 
which  takes  us  back  to  antiquity.  The  beginning 
of  it  was  in  1540,  when  Francisco  Vasquez  de 
Coronado  led  an  expedition  of  exploration  and  con- 
quest from  Mexico  clear  up  into  Kansas. 

In  1596  Santa  Fe  was  founded  by  the  Spaniards 
under  the  name  of  La  Citidad  Real  de  la  Santa  Fe 
de  San  Francisco  (the  True  City  of  the  Holy  Faith 
of  St.  Francis).  There,  in  a  plain  rimmed  by  moun- 
tains, the  Spaniards  and  Mexicans  slept  for  nearly 
two  centuries,  between  the  wars  with  the   Indians. 

In  the  first  years  of  the  19th  century  the  American 
trapper  and  trader  began  to  disturb  the  peaceful 
dreams  of  Santa  Fe.  By  1824  the  first  wagon 
trains  had  left  Independence,  Mo. 

Thereafter  there  was  a  rushing  business  along  the 
Santa  Fe  trail.  In  1825  the  trail  was  made  an  auth- 
orized road  by  act  of  Congress.  In  the  next  two 
years  it  was  surveyed  and  marked  out  "from  the 
western  frontier  of  Missouri,  near  Fort  Osage,  to 
San  Fernando  de  Taos,  near  Santa  Fe. "  Fort 
Leavenworth  was  established  to  give  military  protec- 
tion to  the  hazardous  trade  with  the  Southwest. 

Most  intelligent  Americans  know  of  the  old  trail, 
but  very  few  know  just  where  it  ran.  By  the  time 
Gen.  Kearney  had  taken  formal  possession  of  Santa 
Fe,  in  1846,  in  the  name  of  the  United  States,  its 
northern  terminus  was  Kansas  City,  to  which  point 
merchandise  from  the  east  and  south  was  shipped 
by  steamboat  up  the  Missouri. 

The  Santa  Fe  trail  began  at  Westport  (now 
Kansas  City)  and  followed  the  Kaw  river  to  Law- 
rence.    Thence  it  wound  through  the  hills  to  Bur- 


231 


lingame  and  Council  Grove,  the  Arkansas  valley 
being  reached  at  Fort  Zarah  (now  Great  Bend). 
The  trail  crept  up  this  valley  to  Bent's  Fort  (now 
Las  Animas)  and  climbed  the  mountains  through 
Raton  pass.  There  was  a  short  cut  from  Fort 
Dodge  to  Las  Vegas,  along  the  Cimarron  river. 
In  these  days  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe 
practically  follows  the  pass  trail. 

The  distance  from  Kansas  City  to  Santa  Fe  was 
800  miles,  and  a  round  trip  consumed  about  110 
days.  Day  and  night  in  all  seasons  the  caravans 
pushed  their  way.  In  spite  of  strong  military  es- 
cort, the  trail  was  blood-soaked  for  many  years,  and 
was  marked  by  hundreds  of  graves  of  the  victims, 
of  the  murderous  Apaches  and  other  tribes.  Nearly 
every  mile  of  the  trail  has  had  its  ambush,  its  sur- 
prise, its  attack  and  torture. 

October  1872  Colonel  Inman  saw  one  of  the  last 
caravans  of  white  covered  wagons  slowly  moving 
towards  the  setting  sun.  It  was  the  beginning  of 
the  end  for  on  the  9th  of  February,  1880,  the  first 
train  over  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe 
railroad  arrived  at  Santa  Fe  and  the  old  trail  as 
a  route  of  commerce  was  closed  forever! 

The  Sauta  Fe  trail  has  been  marked  by  the  school 
children  of  Kansas.  Each  school  child  in  the  ''Sun- 
flower State"  has  been  asked  to  give  a  penny  to  a 
fund  to  buy  markers  for  the  famous  old  trail ; 
369166  have  responded,  thus  a  unique  monument  of 
great  historical  importance  will  be  established. 


232 


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